Voyeur
by saragillie
Summary: Sequel to Wounded and Scarred. Brennan and Celia meet for lunch... tune in to find out what happens afterward. Rated M for Mature themes.
1. Velvet Cage

**Author's Note: The long wait is finally over. This is the promised sequel to Wounded and Scarred. If you'd like to read or reread that, feel free to do so, but it isn't necessary to understand this story. I apologize that it took me so long, but this story is much more complex than the last one. It is rated M because it contains some very mature themes. Thanks to redrider6612 for helping me brainstorm through writer's block and for all her editing. Thanks to FauxMaven for her editing and helping me come up with chapter titles. Thanks to luli27 for her legal input. All errors are my own.  
**

Brennan leaned back in her chair, sighing in relief that she'd finished the next chapter of her latest book. Her agent was pushing her to finish the whole thing, preferably as soon as possible. Thinking back over the last few weeks, she decided it was entirely understandable that she was a few chapters behind.

When she and Booth informed Cullen that they'd decided to pursue a romantic relationship, he hadn't split them up as she'd feared, but they were on probation. Between their heavier-than-normal caseload and a few dates with Booth, her writing time had been severely limited. Plus, she'd met Celia for coffee a few times.

Speaking of Celia, Brennan glanced at the clock on the wall. If she didn't leave right now, she'd be late meeting her new friend for lunch. Grabbing her jacket and purse, she headed toward the exit.

She zipped her coat against the nippy fall air and picked up her pace, hurrying toward the deli that had recently opened next to the Circuit City. She had been looking forward to introducing Angela to Celia, but the artist had come down with the flu.

Opening the door of the deli, Brennan stepped into the warmth. It only took her a moment to spot her friend sitting at nearby table. She shrugged out of her coat as she walked toward the empty chair.

"Hi, Celia," she said.

"Hi, Temperance. What's up?"

"Nothing much. Just the usual writing and working."

The other woman laughed. "Yeah, meeting me for coffee, and a few dates with Seeley. Speaking of Seeley, when are you two coming swing dancing with us again?"

"We've had so much work, we can hardly find a moment to ourselves. But it looks like things might be slowing down, so maybe this weekend?"

"You know I'm gonna hold you to that!"

The waiter cleared his throat to get their attention. "What can I get for you today?"

Both women ordered the soup and salad special.

"I can't believe it's only been a month since Sam and I met you guys at that dance club," said Celia. "I feel like I've know you forever."

Brennan smiled. She didn't normally make friends this quickly, but something told her she could trust this woman. They didn't have a lot in common, but they were both independent and career-oriented.

"I can't believe I didn't know that Booth could dance like that. You two totally amazed the crowd."

Celia giggled. "You know what? The place was packed more than usual the next weekend, and last week the owner asked me if 'that guy I danced with' was going to be back."

"If you're going to drag us out dancing regularly, maybe I'd better take some lessons."

"Why the sudden interest in dancing? I don't get the idea that you love it."

Brennan shrugged, not willing to say why. Booth was a good-looking guy, and there was no way she was going to watch him dancing with other women. If she had to take a few lessons to catch up, so be it.

The waiter arrived with their food, and they began to eat. The rest of lunch passed pleasantly for both women. Conversation flowed easily and the food was tasty. As they stood to leave, Brennan looked out and saw the wind had begun to blow. She shivered thinking about the walk back to work.

Noticing the direction of her friend's gaze, Celia offered, "I could give you a ride to the Jeffersonian. My car is just around back."

Brennan nodded gratefully, and they exited the restaurant and turned into the narrow alley toward the parking lot in the rear, chatting about the fall weather and an upcoming dance recital at Celia's studio.

Perhaps that's why neither of them noticed the furtive footfalls behind them. Brennan felt a strange prickling sensation at the back of her neck the moment before strong muscular arms jerked her backward against a man's body. Her attacker pressed a cloth to her face. Immediately, she held her breath, trying not to inhale whatever chemical was on the cloth. She reached for the arm around her chest to throw him, but he tightened his grip forcing the air out of her lungs, causing her to gasp and inhale the cloying smell of chloroform.

When Brennan regained consciousness, her body ached from being in an uncomfortable position. As she moved her arm to relieve the tension in her neck, Celia groaned.

"Celia, Celia," Brennan said, gently nudging her friend. "Are you okay?"

The dancer groaned, "My head is killing me and I feel nauseated, but otherwise I think I'm okay."

Brennan smiled at her in relief and then the two turned and examined their surroundings. They were in a large concrete room, without windows. The single double-door looked very sturdy and there were oddly shaped openings near the floor similar to pet doors. A clock, a speaker, and a thermometer hung directly above the door. Apparently the room was fifty-eight degrees. 'And a bit chilly,' she thought.

"The only way out is the door," Brennan told Celia.

Pointing to the far corner, Celia noted, "There's no privacy. The bathroom's right out in the open and there's no curtain for the shower."

"That corner could almost be a movie set from a 'Spaghetti' Western. The only thing the saloon's missing are chairs and tables and those swinging doors."

The corner to their right was empty.

The room was brightly lit by an unusually large number of lights affixed to the ceiling and upper walls.

"Afraid of the dark much?"

"I don't know what that means."

"Well, there's no need for this much light, so somebody must be afraid of the dark."

"Oh, right. That makes sense I guess."

"Those poles can't be supporting the ceiling," Celia said.

Brennan glanced toward the center of the room. Several poles stretched from the floor to the ceiling, but none of them looked sturdy enough to be supporting the ceiling. Plush area carpets of various colors and patterns covered the cement floor.

"There doesn't seem to be any logic to the way this room is decorated. I don't think it could even be considered eclectic. Did you notice the bed?"

She and Celia were sitting on a very strange bed which occupied the last corner. A large triangular prism sat diagonally across the mattress and the two of them were propped against it. Smaller ones ran across the head and the foot of the bed, and protruding from each were three wedges. The sheet covering the odd bed was made from a variety of white fabrics inexpertly stitched together, flannel next to cotton next to corduroy next to satin. Brennan nudged the prism in the center of the bed. It didn't move.

Giving up on the bed, she said, "We might as well see what else is here."

She got off the bed and went to examine the bar, systematically opening drawers and finding only swatches of diaphanous fabrics of varying dimensions.

"Other than a few pieces of fabric, there's nothing here. And the cups and bottles are painted."

Meanwhile, Celia riffled through the vanity. The drawers held the usual things including toothbrushes, toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, soap makeup, hairdryer, curling iron and an electric razor.

"All that's in here are the usual toiletries."

Looking around the room one last time, Brennan finally acknowledged the first details she'd noticed, but hadn't really wanted to think about. Cameras covered the room like flies on a corpse.

"Temperance," Celia called, her teeth chattering, "I'm getting really cold."

"I take it you don't handle the cold well?" she asked with a smile, heading toward the bed.

"Nuh uh, never have," Celia answered.

"Muscle movement creates heat."

Although the comment was cryptic, the dancer understood what her friend was saying.

"So we should do something aerobic."

After a long while, Brennan began to tire. "I've had enough."

She sat down on the bed and pulled her knees to her chest. A few minutes later Celia joined her and they huddled together for warmth. With nothing else to do, they talked for a little while. Then conversation gave way to silence.

"I think I'm going to take a nap. I'm tired," Brennan said. "It won't help me keep warm, but it will conserve energy."

When they woke up a few hours later, the room was much colder, and Celia shivered almost constantly.

"What are they doing… running the air conditioning?" Celia asked sarcastically.

Literal as usual, Brennan replied, "That's a reasonable assumption, given the current temperature."

"Huh?" the dancer said in confusion.

Brennan pointed at the thermometer over the door. It was now thirty-five degrees.

"What happens if the temperature keeps dropping?" Celia asked.

"Hypothermia, followed by death," Brennan answered succinctly. "Although I doubt they went to the effort of creating such an elaborate setup with the intent of freezing us to death. There must be another reason we're here."

The presence of the cameras gave Brennan a few ideas, but she kept them to herself. None were pleasant and they'd probably find out soon enough.

She sat quietly for a moment, letting the details about what happened trickle through her brain. They'd been taken from behind near the deli after lunch and had been brought to this elaborate, but oddly staged room. Her eyes took in the details of the room once again and then settled on the speaker. Clearly their captors intended to communicate with them. But there was no way for she and Celia to communicate back, was there? Maybe the cameras contained microphones.

'There's only one way to find out,' she thought, before saying loudly, "Excuse me, but it's getting rather cold in here. We would appreciate some warmth."

Celia looked at her as though she was crazy, but a moment later her hypothesis was proved correct when a male voice answered her, "I'd be happy to give you some heat, but you'll have to do something for me in return."

Acting as though this was reasonable, even though she had her doubts, Brennan replied, "Okay. What do you want?"

"Take off your clothes," the male voice demanded.

"What?" Celia shouted in outrage. "It's freezing in here. Taking off my clothes will only make me colder!"

Brennan looked at the other woman and shrugged. "We're not going to do that," she said firmly, knowing that eventually they would have to. But for the moment, she wanted to test the limits.

She got off the bed and checked the carpets. Maybe they could wrap themselves in one and stay warmer for longer. To her disappointment, they were all firmly attached to the floor.

She returned to Celia, climbed on the bed and snuggled up, rubbing her hands up and down Celia's arms and legs trying to warm them with friction. The temperature slowly continued to drop and Brennan's efforts weren't enough to keep her friend warm. She tried to start a conversation, but after a while the other woman lost the ability to reply coherently.

Becoming concerned, Brennan decided to examine the cameras in more depth. A number were recessed in the walls behind small panes of glass. Others were surrounded by strong mesh frames with openings for the lenses. Unfortunately, the cameras were recessed far enough inside their protective covering that she couldn't reach them, not with her hand.

She ground her teeth in frustration. Whoever had set this up was very through. She wasn't strong enough to break the glass or the mesh frames with her bare hands and she had nothing long enough or strong enough or small enough to reach them. There was no way she'd able to break any of the cameras or their lenses.

"Celia, we have to do what they said," Brennan said. "You're exhibiting the initial signs of hypothermia."

"No," Celia chattered her reply defiantly.

"You'd rather keep your clothes and die?" Brennan asked harshly. "We're getting out of these clothes now."

Brennan began to strip off her own clothes and shuddered when the cold air touched her skin. Then she reached for Celia and began to undress her.

The dancer fought back, but the anthropologist asked, "Do you trust me?"

Celia nodded.

"Then do this for me. Forget about the cameras and everything else. This is about our survival. He says he'll give us heat if we do this. The only thing we can do is test him and see if he's telling the truth. If he isn't then we'll just die a bit sooner," she told her friend.

The other woman must have seen the logic of her argument, because she tried to unbutton her blouse. Her cold fingers made it difficult, but eventually she too stood naked in the room.

The male voice said, "Ah, so you finally decided to believe me. Very nice. You are both very attractive women. Excellent."

But the leer in his voice made their skin crawl; neither doubted that he had an excellent view.

Then he continued, "Now take the clothes and shove them through the flap in the door. You won't be needing them anymore."

Brennan shrugged at Celia and moved to comply. They needed the heat more than they needed the inadequate protection of their clothes. As sshe watched, the thermometer began to show the room temperature rising and Celia's shivering slowly abated.

**The idea for this story began when I was reading a so-so kidnapping story and thinking to myself that a lot of kidnapping stories were very similar. The perpetrator was always someone connected to their cases, Booth's past, Brennan's past, or her parents' past. I asked myself what would happen if their kidnapper wasn't one of those things. This story is the answer. I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter. The story is completely written and I will be updating at least once a week.**


	2. Ad lib

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed: danireed, labsquint, bb-4ever, Daisy190, suzyab, my-serendipity, and SuchAGoodGirl. Thanks again to FauxMaven for the title and to both FauxMaven and redrider6612 for their fabulous editing. I decided that I will be posting one chapter a week on Sundays. Enjoy.**

"Good morning, ladies," said their captor, waking them from their slumber.

"Huh?" Brennan mumbled, not fully awake. She opened her eyes and after a disoriented moment remembered what had happened. She yawned and then stretched while Celia rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"Oh, yes," their captor cooed, "very, very nice."

"You're such a…" Celia paused, looking for the right word, and then finished angrily, "pervert!"

He chuckled. "And don't I know it."

In a business-like tone, he said, "Now ladies, here's how it's going to be. You do what I want, and I'll give you food and warmth and beauty sleep."

"What exactly do you want?" Brennan asked thoughtfully.

"Just two things. First, you must be clean, but you may not take long baths. Second, I want to be entertained. Oh, and don't call each other by your real names. From now on you're Blondie and Red." he replied.

"I'm impressed by your creativity," Brennan flung back sarcastically.

"Now, now," he responded condescendingly, "is that any way to talk to the person who controls whether or not you'll get your next meal?"

The pleasure in his tone made her so angry. Deciding that ignoring him would be better, she said to Celia, "So Blondie, do you want the first shower?"

Celia shook her head and curled back into a ball on the bed, and Brennan headed toward the bathtub. She pulled the shampoo, conditioner and soap out of one of vanity drawers and turned on the water, waiting for it to get warm. She used the toilet while she waited.

Then she got in, pulled the stop to turn on the shower, and moved under the water. As she shampooed her hair, she decided it was somewhat disconcerting to know that her every move was being recorded. Since there was a camera right underneath the showerhead, it was also a very difficult fact to ignore.

When her shower was over, she squeezed as much water out of her hair as she could, dried her hair, and then used the hair dryer to blow most of the water off of her body.

"Your turn, Blondie," she called.

"No thanks," the other woman said.

Brennan walked over to Celia. "You have to do this. I know it's making you uncomfortable; I feel the same way. But if you don't do this we won't have any food."

"Maybe I'd rather not eat, Red," she replied defiantly.

"You don't eat and who knows what happens," Brennan fired back. "He kept his word about the heat last night, and I'm hungry. Even if you don't want to eat, please do it so I can."

"Fine," Celia spat back, angry with her and the whole situation. The anger pulled her out of her prior funk and she was soon soaping her body in the shower, trying desperately to forget the cameras.

A couple of minutes after the water went off, two paper plates were pushed through the flap at the bottoms of the door. Brennan picked them up and took them to "saloon corner" as she was beginning to think of it. Celia joined her.

There were eggs, bacon and toast on the plates. Brennan wasn't particularly fond of these foods, but Celia apparently was. She grabbed a plastic spoon, the only utensil they had been given, and dug in.

'She must not be a morning person,' Brennan thought.

No drinks or cups had accompanied their breakfast, so when she was done, she went to the sink, bent over, awkwardly turned her head and drank straight from the tap. Celia followed her example and then went back and curled up the bed.

"Push the plates back through the flap," commanded their captor.

When Brennan grabbed the plates and pushed them under the door, she reached as far as she could to see if there was anything useful within reach. She pulled her arm back with disappointment and then inspected the door carefully. Their captor was very thorough.

'Oh well,' she thought, 'at least the room is cement, it should keep the heat in pretty well.'

At that moment, a loud fan started nearby. A moment later air began to circulate in their basement. Brennan glanced at the thermometer: seventy-two degrees.

She went to sit next to Celia and attempted to engage her in conversation.

"We're going to have to entertain this guy," she said. "My college professor said I did a lovely monologue of Shakespeare and I'm good at telling stories. I know that you can dance. What other talents do you have?" she asked.

The other woman refused to answer, so Brennan curled up next to her and began to sort through what had happened and what they knew about their captor. He was a pervert and liked to be in control, going to extreme lengths to manipulate the situation to his advantage. He was thorough and smart, a careful planner. A setup like this was expensive, so he might also be rich.

Brennan began to think about her resources. Booth would already have realized that she was missing. They were supposed to meet after lunch. He would already be looking. But there wasn't much evidence for him to find. It was unlikely the alley was monitored by cameras or that there had been any witnesses to their abduction.

There was nothing in the room that she could use to effect an escape. The door couldn't be opened from the inside. They didn't have enough of the right kind of household products to make any kind of explosives. If they'd had hairspray, she could have used it with the hairdryer. She wasn't sure if the lack was deliberate or simply an oversight, but it was aggravating. There might be something unique about something in the room – the wood of the saloon's bar or the paint on the walls, but she had no way of getting it to anybody who would find it useful.

Still, she should try and get as many of those particulates on herself and Celia as possible. Maybe they'd get lucky and one of them would get out somehow. If so, it would help her team find the other one. Speaking of which, she needed to find a way to tell Celia a few things without their captor overhearing.

Brennan shivered. The temperature was dropping rapidly. It was now sixty-five degrees. The room had been designed specifically for this exact use.

She momentarily thought about entertaining their captor, but decided to wait until it got colder. Certainty settled in her gut, she didn't want to have to entertain this guy any more often than she had to. A soft chuckle escaped her as she realized that she was acting on her gut. Booth would be so proud.

A second fan kicked in and started pulling the warm air out of the room faster. Another half an hour passed.

Deciding that she'd waited long enough, she got up, centered herself in the room, and began a dramatic recitation of the famous monologue from Macbeth:

"She should have died hereafter;  
There would have been a time for such a word.  
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,  
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day  
To the last syllable of recorded time,  
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools  
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!  
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player  
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage  
And then is heard no more: it is a tale  
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,  
Signifying nothing." (Act V, Scene 5)

"Very nice, Red," their captor said, "but that's not exactly the kind of entertainment I'm looking for."

Brennan thought for a moment and then went to the bar and took out four pieces of fabric. One she draped around her neck; she started juggling with the other three. She wasn't any good with balls or beanbags, but scarves weren't too hard. Once she'd found a rhythm she added the fourth to her pattern. She juggled several different ways, and then when she was done, she gave a deep performer's bow.

She looked toward the speaker, waiting for his response, and noticed that Celia was watching her.

The sound of clapping came from the speaker. "You're very talented. But once again, not what I'm looking for."

"Well, what do you want?" she demanded, having a pretty good idea of what the answer would be.

As expected, he replied, "Oh, I don't care what you do exactly, but it should show off your beautiful body." His voice dropped into a lower register and he continued, "Be seductive. Make me want you."

Brennan began the warm-up she used at her dojo. Hopefully this would meet his criteria and keep her in shape without giving too much away. Then she carefully executed the simplest moves, slowly first and then with increasing speed. It felt weird to do them without her uniform, but she put that aside and concentrated on making them look as stylized as possible. Any time felt as if she overbalanced even a bit, she allowed herself to fall or visibly wobble trying to make herself look as much like a novice as possible.

Panting from the effort of her workout, she completed the last move and then went to the sink for a drink. After a large swallow, she splashed her face with water. Then she collapsed onto one of the soft carpets, still breathing heavily.

The fans switched off.

"A very good beginning, Red," the male voice complimented her.

She pushed away her revulsion at his words and began to review human anatomy systematically, beginning with naming all 206 bones in alphabetical order.

About two hours later the fans came back on, and the temperature began to drop again. When they were sufficiently cold, she said, "Blondie, c'mon, it's your turn."

Leaning over, she whispered in Celia's ear. "Do the simplest dances you know. We need to begin as small as possible, so we can put off the worst as long as possible. "

"No whispering," their captor said harshly.

Celia looked at her with large scared eyes, not wanting to imagine what the worst could be. She stood, walked to the center of the room, and began an elegant dance.

When it was over, he said breathily, "Oh Blondie, your body is exquisite."

Celia practically ran back to the bed and resumed her fetal position. Her dance bought them three hours.

Brennan decided against doing anything else that would reveal her proficiency at martial arts and opted to drape fabrics artistically around her body and pose for the camera.

Two hours later Celia was doing another dance. Another two hours after that, Brennan did one of the tribal dances she knew.

"An unusual choice, Red," commented their captor. "I've never seen anything like it."

The two women took turns, and a variety of dances carried them through the end of the day. Two plates were pushed under the door and they ate hungrily, returning the plates when they were finished.

"If you want us to keep this up, we're going to need some props," Brennan told their captor. However, there was no reply, so she wasn't sure if he heard her.

The two women collapsed tiredly into the odd bed and slept soundly.


	3. Ad hoc

**AN: I forgot to say thanks to labsquint for her help with the last chapter. For the purposes of the story, I needed there to be no way of escape and FauxMaven helped me eliminate a possibility I wasn't even aware of: hair dryer and hairspray. As always thanks to redrider6612 and FauxMaven for their fabulous editing skills. **

The second morning of their captivity began much like the first: a wake up call which included lascivious comments, followed by showers and breakfast. Then the horror began again.

Brennan began the morning "entertainment" with a good workout as she had done the morning before. She stuck with the beginner level stuff, but used different moves.

Celia was not handling the situation as well. She refused to talk, had to be coaxed to shower and eat, and it took more effort to get her to dance in her turn.

For her next turn, Brennan strutted up and down the room, pretending to be a model at a runway show and then a photo shoot.

Around noon, the props Brennan asked for arrived via the door's flap. The small shallow box contained a variety of skimpy lingerie in two sizes, handcuffs, a whip and other similar paraphernalia.

The next time the temperature became too cold to bear, she handed Celia one of the outfits from the box and told her to put it on before dancing. She stared at Brennan with dull eyes for a moment and then complied.

Late in the afternoon, Brennan was out of other ideas and had to resort to pleasuring herself to get the heat they needed.

One time when her hands were particularly cold, she went to the sink to soak them in hot water, but discovered that there was no hot water. Their captor was infuriatingly prepared.

The next day, Celia was coaxed to shower and eat, but she refused to dance or do anything else at all. Using her creativity, the various surfaces in the room, including the bed's odd protrusions and the props she had been given, Brennan kept them warm that day.

By the fourth day, she hadn't figured out how to communicate what she needed to tell Celia and she was getting very worried about the other woman's mental health. In addition, she was running out of ideas.

Frustrated, she yelled, "I don't know what else to do."

The male voice replied calmly, "There are two of you for a reason," and then fell silent.

Brennan raged internally at him, mentally swearing at him in every language she knew. Then she thought further about his comment. Possibly it contained a solution to her communication problem.

The next time she was shivering with cold, she said to Celia. "Would you like a backrub?"

Celia switched from fetal position to lying flat on the bed. Brennan massaged her back and leaned near her ear. Moving sensually to distract their captor, she whispered to Celia, "Look, there are a few things I need to tell you. And it's going to take a while. I need you to do what I say, alright? I'm just trying to save our lives. We're going to have to pretend to be making out in various places around the room. This way if one of us gets away there will be some particulate evidence to help the authorities find the one left behind."

The next time they had to perform for their warmth, Brennan "backed" Celia up against the empty corner and they pretended to make out while Brennan tried to scratch paint off the walls. She could tell by the other woman's body language that she felt extremely uncomfortable, but having a task that might help them eventually revived her somewhat and she managed a creditable performance.

Two hours later, they danced salsa together. Two hours after that, they pretended again on the bar and Celia dug her nails into its surface. Afterward, Brennan offered her another massage, trying to get the dancer accustomed to her touch.

The rest of the day, they alternated the dancing with "making out." Near the end of the day, they had met Brennan's goal of covering themselves with particulates, but their captor had figured out that they had been pretending and was very unhappy.

"You owe me something big or I'm not going to give you any dinner or any heat tonight," he threatened.

Brennan looked at her friend and decided to wait it out. When they didn't respond immediately, both fans came on. Several hours passed and as promised, the temperature dropped rapidly.

It had dropped to almost freezing before Brennan spoke.

"Celia, he really means it," she said. "I think we have to… you know."

The dancer shook her head violently.

"I don't think we have much of a choice," she said, rubbing her hands up and down the other woman's arms. "I… look…. Just go somewhere else in your mind alright? I… I'll take care of the rest."

Brennan swallowed hard. Two days ago, she had known it would probably come to this eventually, but she hated her captor for putting them in this position and herself for what she was about to do.

Then she began to touch the other woman, whispering quietly in her ear. "I'm sorry, so sorry, but we have to live. This man? He's the pervert you called him and more. I suspect he's been selling tapes or a feed of this over the Internet. If he doesn't kill us or if you get out, go to my team at the Jeffersonian. Ask for Angela. Don't sit on anything or wash your clothes. The evidence is on your body."

She sucked in another breath of cold air, put her emotions in a box, apologized once more, and gently began exploring the other woman's body, first with her fingers and then with her tongue. At some point, Celia's body responded, betraying her mental distaste and revealing that she had indeed listened to Brennan's advice.

The moment it was over, the dancer ran to the toilet and threw up. Then she grabbed all the fabric she could find and tossed it into the empty corner. She made a nest as best as she could and then sat there, rocking back and forth silently.

Heat started to flow into the room, but Brennan, crying silently on the bed, didn't notice. Eventually both women slept, but neither slept well. She had nightmares from her past and Celia dreamed she was running away from a large monster with soft hands.

Brennan woke the next day with a foul taste in her mouth. She was leaning against something warm and somewhat hard. Celia was definitely softer.

At the thought of Celia, Brennan sat up and looked toward the corner where she had last seen her friend. It was empty. Desperately she looked at the person on the bed with her. The sight of a naked Seeley Booth jolted her completely awake.

'What was her FBI partner doing here? And where was Celia?' she wondered.

"Where's Blondie?" she demanded out loud.

"Don't worry," her captor said soothingly. "She wasn't a fit playmate anymore, so I brought you a new one. Do you like him?"

"What about Blondie?" she repeated her demand.

"Don't worry, I promise I won't hurt her," he said. "Well, as long as you cooperate, I won't hurt her," he amended his prior statement and followed it with a nasty laugh.

Brennan was beginning to think he was evil incarnate. Realizing there was nothing she could do to help Celia now, she asked, "So what's his name?"

"Muscles," came the sardonic reply.

"That's the best you can do?" she mocked, no longer able to contain the emotions of the past few days.

"I didn't think you'd like 'pretty boy' or 'dead weight,'" he snapped back.

"You… you're such a…" Brennan began, but their captor interrupted her, "Tut, tut. Watch your language, Red. Now, Muscles should wake up sometime in the next hour or so."

"Why him?" she asked hoping he would satisfy her curiosity.

"Because he showed up the most often in your call logs," answered the male voice.

Her hope soared. If he had turned her cell phone on or better yet, made a call from it, it would traceable. However, he was disturbingly competent, so maybe she shouldn't get her hopes up.

Wanting to wash the nasty flavor from her mouth, she got up and took a swig from the tap. 'He used a gas to make me unconscious,' she realized. She glanced at the clock; it was 11 AM. She never slept that late. It must have been whatever drug they'd used put her out when they switched Booth for Celia.

As she returned to the bed, Brennan noted that the place had also been cleaned up. The ring that had begun to show in the tub was gone. The crumbs on the floor near the bar were gone, and the bed now sported a purple sheet instead of the white one. She climbed into the bed and curled up next to Booth, watching him for signs of waking.

She wasn't sure if she should be glad that he was the one held captive with her or not. Certain aspects of being here would probably be easier with him than with someone else. But if he was here, it meant he wasn't out looking for her.

Her gaze wandered over his attractive body and involuntarily her hand moved toward his chest. She pulled her arm back to her side. She shouldn't… at least not until he was awake. Her mind began to replay the last time she'd touched someone, specifically Celia. With effort, she pushed the image away and concentrated on admiring his physique.

The moment he was awake enough to recognize her, her hand covered his mouth to prevent him from saying her name.

"I'm Red and you're Muscles," she told him with a grimace. Calling him Muscles was definitely worse than being called Red.

She removed her hand from his mouth and he said, "What?"

"Apparently, we're not supposed to use real names. So I'm Red and you're Muscles. Got it, Muscles?" she answered, suppressing another grimace.

"Are you okay?" he asked, noticing her expression.

"As well as can be expected given the circumstances," she replied, gesturing with her head to the rest of the room.

But Booth was more interested in how she was doing, so he examined her face carefully and couldn't help but noticing her nakedness. Suddenly his perusal turned from making sure she was okay to checking out her body.

Brennan blushed at his frank appreciation. They had fooled around some, but had yet to actually make love. Boldly she looked him over in a similar way and then quirked a smile at him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him with a look.

"Check out your new digs, Muscles," she suggested.

He carefully examined the room and then turned back to her with a question in his eyes. She nodded once, confirming his supposition.

"Our _host_," she emphasized the word 'host' with a sarcastic tone in her voice, "has a few rules. Besides the stupid names, we are to stay clean and to entertain him. In return, he gives us food and heat."

At that moment, plates were pushed under the door.

"Good morning, Red. Muscles. Or should I say 'Good Afternoon'?" said their captor. "I hope you slept well."

Brennan stood and retrieved their lunch from the floor, took it over to the bar, and the two sat down to eat.

He glanced down at his plate. "Is it safe?" he asked.

"Hasn't hurt me yet," she replied.

He started to speak again, but she said, "Save it. We'll have plenty of time to talk later. There isn't exactly a lot to do in here."

**AN: Lately, I haven't been very interested in ready angsty stories (partly because of the holiday season). Given the lack of reviews, I presume everyone either feels like me or is too busy to have time to read, so I'm going to hold off posting the next chapter of this story until January. I'll be posting a nice fluffy one-shot in between though and I hope you'll enjoy that.**


	4. Marionettes

**AN: Apologies to everyone for the delay in posting. The day after I decided that I was going to take a "posting break" over Christmas, I received some excellent feedback from TotallyHonestReviewer1 that made me go back and look again at the next chapters. At the simplest, THR1 said that I needed to treat the subject with the depth it deserves. I have tried to take into that account, and I believe I have made progress towards it. However, as a person and with where I am in my writing, I'm not sure that I can truly do the subject justice. However, I had already started posting the story, so I felt that I need to continue posting the story. Many thanks to redrider6612 and FauxMaven who have been over numerous additional drafts over the past month. Please don't hold the delay against me. The story is richer because of the changes.**

Smiling coyly at him, she blatantly came onto him."So, Muscles, you wanna share my shower?" she asked as she sashayed toward the tub.

In any other situation Booth would have followed her in an instant, but the cameras stopped him. He shook his head. She shrugged and showered with business-like efficiency.

Her lip curled. She hated being forced into things, but there was no way she could fight their captor. She just hoped she wouldn't hate herself afterwards.

'I can't do anything about the cameras,' she thought, 'but I can make this as easy on us as possible.'

Booth was aroused in spite of himself as he watched. He sat on the bed, wrapping his arms around his bent knees for modesty.

The idea that their captor was probably watching and sharing some of his thoughts made Booth insanely angry. His relationship with Brennan was special. He had spent so much time and energy nurturing it over the past several years. And now the actions of one unknown, but very sick, man were threatening it. He was supposed to rescue her, not be caught himself. The FBI had had all the bases covered. What had he done wrong?

Booth turned his anger to a useful task – a thorough search of the room. He sighed in disappointment as he came to the same conclusion that Brennan had. There was no way out and nothing in the room could be used as a weapon. His fist was millimeters from the wall before he remembered the cement wall would do more damage to him than he would do to it.

Then the sound of the hair dryer distracted him, and he watched as Brennan chased the drops of water down her generous curves with it. She rested a long, smooth leg on the edge of the tub and he caressed it with his eyes. His body responded as it had been doing far too often lately.

"Your turn," Brennan called, stepping out of the tub.

A bit dazed, Booth stared at her as his mind processed what she said.

She looked at him and laughed. "This time I can tell not only that you like what you see, but just how much!"

He blushed a bit. This wasn't how he had expected things to go at all. He had been planning a nice romantic dinner, followed by dancing or a show, and then a slow seduction.

His brain and his body seemed to be on different tracks. While he had been thinking about his plans, his eyes tracked her swaying hips as she walked toward him.

She stretched up on her toes and whispered in his ear, "Impressive, Seeley. You want help washing it?"

"I… you…" He tried to form a coherent response, but the fruity scent of her shampoo distracted him. He took a deep breath, inhaling it again. It wasn't apple or orange. Pear, or apricot maybe?

"No whispering," the voice of their captor demanded harshly. Abruptly he was jerked back to reality.

"No, thanks… Red," he said, choking on the stupid name. If they had to use names other than their own, he'd much rather be Tony and Roxie than Muscles and Red. Pushing his disgust aside, he headed toward the shower.

When he was finished, they curled up together on the bed. She rested a hand on his chest and slowly traced the defined lines of his muscles with her soft fingertips. He wrapped an arm around her waist, his fingers drawing lazy circles on her stomach.

"It's pretty warm in here right now," he commented. "The room should stay warm for a while. What exactly did you mean when you said he controls the heat?"

Brennan glanced at the thermometer. "It's seventy-eight degrees now, but you'd be surprised at how quickly the room can get cool. Just wait, you'll see."

"Were you really serious about the… um… type of entertainment he requires?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," she replied, pushing away self-loathing, but she didn't entirely succeed in keeping it out of her voice.

"T… Red?" he queried softly.

She shook her head. She couldn't think or talk about it right now. She needed her strength to stay alive.

"What happened while I was missing?" she asked to distract him.

He noticed that she changed the subject, but didn't push it. She probably didn't want to share with their unseen audience.

"Well, when you didn't show up for our meeting, I started looking for you. Your best friend told me you where you were planning on having lunch and the staff confirmed that you'd been there. But afterward you both just disappeared. Eventually the police found… um… your friend's car still in the parking lot. There were no traces of what happened."

"We were walking down the alley to the parking lot when a man came up behind me and put a cloth to my face. I think it must have had something like chloroform on it."

Booth looked in her eyes and saw that she was certain it had been chloroform, but it wouldn't do to give away what they knew. He began to mentally swear. She felt him tense and caressed his cheek with a finger.

"They'll find us." Alive or dead was another question.

He was surprised. She didn't usually have so much faith in people, but she was right; her team would never give up. And the man had kidnapped an FBI agent too, and the FBI took care of their own.

"So how'd you end up here?" she asked.

"Early this morning I got a call from your cell phone, telling me that if I wanted to see you again, I'd come alone to the mall. I was supposed to go to the janitor's closet, find a cell phone and get further instructions. I remember leaning into the trashcan on the wheeled cart to get the phone, then something was sprayed in my face." He bit his tongue to keep from admitting how stupid he felt.

A litany of questions she couldn't ask ran through her mind. Had he really gone to the mall alone? Would tracing the call help the FBI find them? Was he wearing his badge when he was taken? If he had, their chances of getting out of here alive would be significantly less. Their captor would probably rather kill them and dispose of their bodies than face charges of kidnapping an FBI agent.

"He told me he picked you out of my call list because I called you the most frequently," she said quietly.

The loud noise of machinery starting up distracted Booth from replying.

"What's that?" he asked.

"The fans," she replied dully, snuggling closer to him. She could feel the warmth being sucked out of the room already. Soon he would understand exactly how things worked in this messed up place.

Men's muscles produced more heat than women's. She'd be warmer with him than she'd been with Celia. 'I'm not thinking about her until we get out of here.'

Brennan wondered how long they could put off the inevitable. She really wanted him, but not in these circumstances. She compared her ideas against the number of "entertainment sessions" that would be required of them today. They'd probably run out of alternatives sometime tomorrow.

She swallowed her revulsion and stoked her determination. Their captor was going to steal something special from them, and they were going to have to go along with it. For now. But with the FBI's help, her team would find them and then she'd do everything possible to make sure he paid for this for as long as the law allowed. Imagining him rotting in prison for years made her feel a little better.

Forty-five degrees and several hours later, Booth couldn't stand to watch her shiver any longer and he gave into her earlier suggestion.

"Okay, Red. I'll teach you some more swing dance moves."

Brennan smiled, remembering their first date and how he'd taught her to dance. After this she'd never want to dance again.

The physical exertion warmed them until the temperature began to rise and they were given a reprieve.

Swing dancing carried them through the end of the day. The next day they started with the kind of dance done at singles bars. But when they tried some other dance variations in the next session, it didn't go so well.

"That's getting old, Muscles and Red," came the bored voice of their captor. "Give me something new."

Shivering uncontrollably, she directed to him lie on his back on the bed. She explored his body, her fingers dancing softly across his sculpted muscles, memorizing him and earning their heat at the same time. Occasionally he moaned involuntarily in response, but he forced himself to remain as still as possible. They needed to draw this out as long as possible. She leaned close to his ear and said, "When we're doing this, he'll let us whisper. I don't think he'll hear if we're careful to be really quiet." He nodded, and then let out another groan as her fingers brushed the sensitive skin at the base of his neck.

The next time, she was the virgin territory and he the explorer. He took his time; he loved the softness of her skin, and she bit her tongue with the effort of not calling out his name when her whole body was on fire.

Although they stretched the in-between times as long as possible, the fans could suck the warm air out quickly and the air conditioner was very effective at chilling the room.

When their time was up, she said, "Could we have hot water please?"

There was no reply, but when she went to the tub, the water eventually warmed. Adding the water to vary the last two sessions was enough to take them through early evening.

When dinner came, Booth was surprised to find steak and potatoes on the plate. No knives had been provided, but the steak had already been cut into bite-size pieces.

Brennan picked at the potatoes and then pushed the plate away. She had been coerced into a lot to survive, but she wouldn't do this. She'd hold onto every freedom she still had, no matter how small. As long as they kept him happy, there'd be another meal in the morning.

Booth ate voraciously. "The steak is excellent."

"He must have thought we were good."

Her comment reminded Booth how they'd been "earning" their food, and his appetite fled. He knew detachment was her usual coping mechanism, but he couldn't stomach the thought of eating another bite at that price.

The food renewed their determination to wait as long as possible, but eventually the temperature dropped to near freezing.

"I'm out of ideas," Brennan told him.

"Me too."

"So?"

He swallowed hard. "Yeah, but I could never… under these circumstances… I don't want…"

"We're out of alternatives."

Accepting the inevitable, he moved close and whispered. "He might be controlling our actions, but he can't control our minds. Name somewhere you haven't been."

"Fiji."

"Close your eyes. Imagine we're in Fiji, staying in a cottage on the beach."

Booth was determined to make their first time special, regardless of their circumstances. Like a musician, he slowly tuned her body and then began to play a sweet melody, whispering the expanse of the horizon, the sound of the waves, the caress of the breeze across their skin, and the give of the sand underneath them. She let him lead and their harmony was exquisite. When the duet ended, both were satisfied and neither remembered the electronic eyes as they drifted into sleep.


	5. Through The Looking Glass

**AN: Here's the next installment of this story. Although I had originally planned to update once a week, I don't think that's going to happen. I apologize for this; however, the story is stronger and more realistic as a result. Thanks to TotallyHonestReviewer1 for helping me keep this more true to life (not that it's necessarily as true to life as it could be, but with her input I'm closer than I originally was) and thanks to redrider6612 and FauxMaven for their outstanding editing. I'd like to say that I hope you enjoy the update, but I'm not sure that's quite appropriate given the subject matter.**

The next day, they stretched their few minutes of private conversation after each session of "entertainment."

Relief flooded Brennan when Booth told her he'd left his FBI identification in his car, but she was disturbed that he'd been taken despite the blanket of FBI security at the mall.

'Two weeks ago, I was thinking that some time away with Booth would be wonderful,' she thought. 'We have no outside interruptions and plenty of time to satisfy our biological urges, but... but not like this; not for the entertainment of some pervert. This should have been special, something for just us, but he's perverted it into a cheap performace.'

Nauseated, she fought the urge to vomit. She dashed across the room, barely making it to the toilet before losing the contents of her stomach.

Booth was at her side an instant later, pulling her hair back from her face and worriedly asking if she was sick. Ashamed, she avoided his gaze as she flushed the toilet and then brushed her teeth thoroughly. She had to be strong. She couldn't to let things get to her.

Unable to avoid his penetrating gaze any longer, she glanced up and saw his worry for her and anger at their situation.

"I'm fine. I'll be fine."

He pulled her into his arms to comfort her and to let her know that he understood. The situation was horrible, but they had to be fine, to keep it together if they were going to survive.

Trying to avoid her prior train of thought, Brennan focused on her encounters with her partner. She now knew the difference between satisfying her physical needs and making love, but she'd been calling them 'biological urges' for so long that 'making love' just sounded strange when she tried the words in her head.

She shook her head, trying to clear those thoughts too. Straying into emotional territory was dangerous. Staying detached was the only way she was staying sane at the moment, and she grasped at it, trying to forget the events that preceded Booth's arrival, using every ounce of willpower to maintain her detachment.

In some ways having Booth with her made things easier; she knew she could rely on him and he would lend her his strength when she needed it. He also made her feel safe. On the negative side, she trusted him and was more vulnerable around him, and the newness of their relationship made it very difficult to maintain her mental and emotional distance.

In addition, she was worried about Celia, which brought her back to…

The internal pressure burst through the dam of her detachment. She collapsed into Booth's arms and sobbed silently.

"T-t-tell m-m-me I'm not a t-terrible person," she begged through her tears.

Booth tightened his arms around her, rocking her gently back and forth.

"Shhhh. We're in a bad situation that's forcing us to make unpleasant choices to survive. That doesn't mean either of us is a bad person," he said, trying to soothe her with logic.

Brennan cried harder. He didn't know what she'd done in order to survive, and she didn't know how she was going to ever be able to live with herself. Eventually she cried herself to sleep in his arms.

Anger surged through Booth. She was slowly losing the battle against whatever demons she was wrestling. It was his job to protect her and he was failing miserably at it. Because of the lack of privacy, he couldn't figure out what was going on with her.

Their captor must have had some concern because he gave them a full five hours of warmth before the temperature began to drop again.

The long nap helped Brennan to regain her composure, but her vulnerability had pushed Booth closer to the edge and she could see it. A muscle twitched in his jaw. It was getting harder for him to contain his frustration and anger. She was afraid he might try to put his fist through the cement wall or break the saloon bar in half. Eventually he started pacing with long strides, his shoulders stiff and his fists clenched.

When Brennan couldn't stand any more, she spoke in a harsh tone for the benefit of their captor. "Being down here for so long is very difficult. I need an acceptable outlet for my stronger emotions."

She received no reply so she paced too, trying to work off her frustration.

Fortunately, both of them had plenty of experience to draw on, so keeping their captor entertained wasn't much of a problem, for the moment at least. The emotions roiling under the surface made their lovemaking explosive.

After a particularly passionate coupling, Booth, panting heavily from their activities, whispered in her ear, "If I could choose any way to die, it would be making love with you."

Brennan stared at him in surprise before worry flooded her. He was thinking about death? Did he think they were running out of time? How was she supposed to respond to that?!? Out of her depth, she did what she was good at. She kissed him and made words unnecessary.

On the morning of Booth's third full day of captivity and her eighth, Brennan woke before the usual morning wakeup call and noticed that a large freestanding punching bag had been slipped in during the night.

It was nice to get what she asked for, but incredibly frustrating to know that they had missed an opportunity to escape. She wasn't a heavy sleeper and the normal morning taste in her mouth told her that she hadn't been drugged.

She turned to her sleeping partner to point out the new addition to their furniture, but the soft expression on his face distracted her. There was no doubt about it; he was a fine specimen of manhood. He looked good when he was awake, intense and focused on a case, but he looked even better like this.

She smiled softly as Booth's eyes fluttered open slowly. She leaned down to kiss him.

"Good morning, beautiful," she greeted him quietly. "I love you."

His eyes popped open.

"I know… guys are handsome or good-looking or hot. You're all those things, and very sexy too. But beautiful describes you best," she said, snuggling into him.

"I… T..." he began, his brain still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.

"Shhh…" She kissed him gently, reveling in the taste and texture of him. One hand found the back of his head and started playing with the short hairs near the nape of his neck while the other caressed the hard planes of his chest.

Shifting slightly so her lips were next to his ear, she whispered, "I love you, Seeley Booth." And then she proceeded to show him.

Afterward, for her ears only, he said, "I love you, Temperance Brennan. I have for a long time. You are the most amazing woman I've ever known."

After breakfast, she addressed their unknown captor. "I would really like some vanilla or lavender scented body wash. And, thank you for the punching bag." Brennan suppressed a grimace at the last statement. He didn't really deserve thanks. If he hadn't put them here… but maybe if he felt like they appreciated what he'd "given" them, he'd be willing to give them other things.

Booth's jaw tightened. She shouldn't be thanking the person who captured them. His anger rose, hot and furious.

"Hey, Red," he said in a controlled tone. "Help me move it to the corner?"

They turned it on its side and rolled it into the empty corner. The stand was heavy and both of them were panting with the effort by the time it was in its new location.

He gestured toward it. "Ladies first, Red?"

"Why not? I've got plenty of pent up emotion to work off."

Brennan began to attack the bag with a variety of punches and kicks. She'd been cooped up for days with nothing of real value to do. Her team was probably frantic with worry. She wanted to go back to work and her normal activities. She punched the bag savagely, trying not to think about what their captor had stolen from them.

She stopped and leaned against the punching bag to catch her breath, sweat pouring off her body. Surreptitiously, she inspected it. It was too heavy to use as a battering ram on the door, but maybe some part of it would be useful for something. To her disappointment, it would be impossible to disassemble it without tools. And if they had tools, they wouldn't be stuck here in the first place.

She stood up and took one last shot at it. She turned to find Booth staring at her.

"That was so hot," he growled, his voice low, breathing heavily, eyes half-lidded and dazed with desire. He was disgusted at his natural response. How could he have forgotten, even temporarily, their situation?

Then she stepped close and gave him a long kiss, muddling his senses all over again.

"Hold that thought, Muscles," she said with a wink, playing to the cameras. His stomach churned; they had been turned into circus animals performing for a Caligula.

While she showered, his fists furiously pounded out his pent up anger, frustration, and self-loathing.

After noon, a bag from Bath and Body Works was pushed under the door.

"Thank you." She choked on the polite words.

Heading to the tub, she turned on the water and waited for it to get warm. No dice.

"Baths are beneficial to the health of the female reproductive system. Given the repeated workout mine has had the past few days, I believe one is in order," she commented. "They are also relaxing." She swallowed her distaste and added, "Maybe you'll find it entertaining."

"Alright," said the male voice through the speaker. "You can have hot water, but don't stay in too long."

'What a control freak,' Brennan thought rolling her eyes. A few minutes later, the water warmed. She plugged the drain and stepped in, adding the bath gel to get bubbles. She sank into the water and sighed in pleasure as the warmth eased the ache in her neck caused by sleeping in the strange bed.

As always her brain ran a mile a minute. Brennan figured they'd be okay for the next day or two. Props and the bathtub would buy them a few more days, but after that it was going to be difficult to maintain the level of sexual activity their captor required. She needed to come up with something for when they reached that point. They had to survive long enough for the FBI to find them, and Celia's well-being depended on their ability to keep the pervert happy.

She mulled over their options all day, and late in the evening she finally came up with a feasible idea. She'd have to convince Booth, though. It would require supplies, but their captor seemed willing to provide them with reasonable things. Her plan, however, would require a couple of things he might be reluctant to give them.

The next morning, their fourth day, she started the first phase of her plan.

"I'm bored. I've always thought it would be fun to take up drawing. Could I have some pencils, an eraser and a drawing pad? I might as well do something useful with my spare time," she said. In an offhanded tone, she added, "Oh, and I'd like a cloth tape measure, preferably the kind used in sewing."

Booth looked at her like she was crazy. Their captor must have agreed, because he asked curiously, "What do you want the tape measure for?"

She replied with a shrug, "I want to measure how big Muscles is."

Booth blushed and their captor laughed.

"Why not?"

Brennan gave an internal sigh. Phase one was coming off without a hitch.

After their next "entertainment" session, Booth quietly said, "I know you, Temperance, and you're up to something."

"I'm working on what we can do when we run out of different positions," she whispered back. "But it requires some preparation."

"So what exactly is your plan?"

"I'd rather not tell you until I'm sure it will work," she replied. She knew it was going to take all her powers of persuasion to get him to agree.


	6. Maze Runner

**AN: The usual thanks to redrider6612, FauxMaven, and TotallyHonestReviewer1. **

Brennan's supplies arrived after breakfast the next morning. During their first break, she used the tape to measure Booth. Despite their nakedness and physical intimacy, his head-to-toe blush fascinated her. His color darkened further at her throaty laugh, even as it turned him on.

Her primary interest, however, was not the size of his penis as she told their captor, but the dimensions of his chest. Afterward she enlisted Booth to help her measure the dimensions of the room, recording everything on her drawing pad.

During the few minutes of private conversation they could steal after entertaining their captor, Booth asked, "Why do you need the dimensions of the room? Or, for that matter, me?"

"I don't need the measurements of the room," she whispered. "But it gave us something to do." And it kept her mind from straying into dangerous territory. It was getting harder and harder to keep herself together. Her control was fraying around the edges. She wanted, no _needed_, something to keep her from thinking too much. Like sharks around their prey, her thoughts and emotions circled dangerously close to what she'd done to Celia. No! She couldn't, no, wouldn't, think about that.

"And me?"

His voice pulled her from the morass of her mind. She struggled to remember what they were talking about. "I thought he might find it entertaining?"

Her reply was a second too slow and he noticed she avoided answering, but she spoke again before he could ask what was wrong or pin her down on the real reason behind the measurements.

"Hey, Muscles, would you get the tape measure please?"

He looked at her like she was crazy, but complied. It wasn't like there was anything else to do and she said she had some kind of plan.

"Okay, I need you to measure the breadth of my shoulders, my waist, my hips, then from the base of my neck to my waist, and the base of my neck to my hips. Please write them down on the bottom half of the page."

He stretched the tape measure across her shoulders, deliberately taking his time. The light brush of his fingers sent cascades of shivers across her bare skin.

She didn't really need all of the measurements, but decided to throw in a few extra to keep their captor guessing. Later, she'd take other measurements of him and have him do other ones on her. Then she'd measure other things in the room. Possibly those would be useful in her drawings.

The rest of the day Brennan alternated between drawing and exercising. After a session of martial arts warm-up, she started drawing the punching bag. It had been a long time since she'd drawn anything, and the punching bag had simple lines and interesting shadows. She worked off some of her anxiety about their situation, and then drew the saloon area as it looked from the bed. Booth scooted close to see what she was drawing.

"Stop it, Muscles!" she demanded in annoyance, glaring over her shoulder at him.

He moved back a bit, but not far enough.

Two minutes later, she ripped some pages from the book and thrust them at him along with a pencil. "Go draw over there. I can't focus with you looking over my shoulder."

He sat on a barstool. She started again, this time adding him to the scene.

By the end of the day, she was satisfied with her progress. She went to sleep thinking she was ready to attempt something harder.

Their captor woke them their sixth morning with a cheerful, "Good morning, lovelies."

"The next good morning I have will be when I wake up free," Brennan muttered in frustration.

"My, you're feeling feisty this morning," he said.

"Hey, watch your adjectives, buster," Booth growled, just as annoyed as Brennan. Usually his dreams were unpleasant and he was happy to wake from the memories his subconscious insisted on replaying. But most of them were more tolerable than their present reality.

Brennan tossed a quelling look at her partner.

"You'd better look into some props or something," she told their captor.

"Oh, I've got them all prepared," he responded. "Just let me know when you want them. Frankly, nobody has ever gone as long as you have without needing… accessories."

Bile rose in Brennan's throat. Given the elaborate setup of the room, she knew there had been people here before them, but having it confirmed and being compared to the prior occupants made her sick.

She swallowed reflexively, pushing down the burn in her throat. Maybe a shower would give her stomach time to settle so she'd be able to eat.

Mid-afternoon, Booth wandered over to see what she'd been drawing while he'd been doing his now five-times daily push-ups and sit-ups.

"Can I see what you've drawn, Red?"

She handed him the pad and offered him a nervous smile. She folded her hands in her lap to keep from grabbing it back.

He flipped through drawings of their room and some of places she'd been. She was good. However, what really surprised him were the ones of him.

He shifted awkwardly. "I didn't know you could draw."

She shrugged.

"You're really good," he allowed, even as he wished she hadn't drawn him. If – no, when – they were rescued, the sketchbook would be kept for evidence. Who knew how many people would see these naked drawings of him?

He swallowed a lump in his throat. Having things to do, drawing and measuring, was steadying both of them emotionally. They'd just have deal with the fallout later – if there was a later.

"I took a few figure drawing classes while I got my degrees. Before I started… working professionally, I had to do my own drawings sometimes, you know, for my job."

Booth flipped to the next page and saw something totally different than her other work. In simple lines, there were several smaller symbols drawn onto a shield. It almost looked like a heraldic symbol, but the drawing was unfinished.

He tossed her a questioning glance, and she answered his unspoken question, "It's just a design I'm working on."

"Huh." He could tell from the way she crossed her arms across her chest that she was keeping something from him, but this wasn't the time or place to push it. Maybe it was related to her plan.

Midway through the next day, Brennan asked for the props. When the box arrived, they took their time looking through it since they didn't really have anything better to do.

Booth examined the handcuffs. "These are very cheaply made. A good strong jerk would pull the chain links apart."

"Oh, look. I have one of these at home," she said, holding up a body stocking. "They're actually quite comfortable."

Next she pulled out a couple of bra and panty sets and Booth found a whip. The box also contained an Old West style corset, chaps, cowboy hat and boots, toy gun, bracelet and anklets with bells, and a vibrator.

Booth was really glad that there were no bits, bridles, or blinders in the box. But he could handle the Old West theme. 'I am a lawman after all,' he smirked.

On day eight, Brennan turned out to be especially creative with the Old West theme and they managed a whole day with those props alone.

After lunch, he looked around their room. He really hated this place. There was nothing to do and too much time to think. The cameras, a constant reminder of why they were here, angered him and the burning in his gut grew worse. He wished he had his gun and one bullet, all he needed to get them out of here. This kind of thinking was futile. He needed a distraction.

"I'm bored. Play a game with me."

"What kind of game?"

"We've got pencils and paper. How about tic-tac-toe or hangman?"

"I hated those games when I was six," Brennan replied. "I have a better idea."

She went and sat at the bar. Pulling a sheet of paper off her drawing pad, she began to fold it like an accordion, carefully creasing each fold line with her thumbnail. Then she tore carefully along the folds until she had a handful of long strips of paper about an inch wide. Next, she folded each strip and then tore along the folds again. When she was done, she had a large pile of one-inch squares. She wrote letters and small numbers on each.

After she completed the first several, Booth groaned, "Not Scrabble, Red. You'll beat me every time."

"We don't have a Scrabble board."

"I'm sure you can draw one," he replied grumpily.

"We could also use the squares for speed Scrabble, hangman, writing messages or poetry, or to make simple ciphers for the other person to decode."

"What exactly is speed Scrabble?"

"You play with Scrabble tiles," Brennan explained. "You start with five tiles. The first person who can incorporate all their tiles into crossword style words shouts 'Go' and all the players grab another tile and another round begins. The winner is the first person who finishes after there are no tiles left in the draw pile."

"What if nobody can make any words?" he asked.

"Then everybody agrees they're stuck and grabs another tile," she said. "There are other ways to determine the winner. One is by counting who wins the most rounds. Another is by counting the points each round. The sum of the numbers on the unused tiles is subtracted from the sum of the numbers of the used tiles."

Booth came within ten points of Brennan the first time they kept score, so he challenged her to another game. He lost miserably because he had a Q without a U. They switched to hangman. Unfortunately, she consistently beat him at that too. She used words he'd never heard of like 'syzygy' which she told him meant an alignment of the sun, moon, and earth, and seemed to know exactly which words he chose. 'If only we had Risk, I could probably beat her at that,' he thought in frustration.

As she fell asleep that night, thoughts of Celia bubbled up. Her hollow stomach churned. She had managed to go the whole day without losing her detachment, mostly because they'd had things to keep them busy. They'd begun to adjust to this situation. It was natural, but no less disturbing. She shifted restlessly, unable to find a comfortable position.

After breakfast the next day, Brennan decided it was time to try to convince Booth that her plan was a good idea. He wouldn't like it, but they didn't have a lot of options.

During their stolen minutes of conversation after their first entertainment session of the day, she told Booth, "You know, there's a chance I'm pregnant."

He pulled back from her abruptly and she saw an odd expression, not quite panic, in his eyes.

"What?!? You're so adamant about not wanting children; I figured you were probably on birth control."

"I was on the pill, but I haven't been able to take it since I've been here. Although it usually takes at least a few months after going off the pill for a woman to get pregnant, a certain percentage of women get pregnant immediately. And we've been having sex, lots of it, during the time when I'm likely to be most fertile."

"I … how do you feel about it?" The idea of having a child with Brennan sounded wonderful… sometime in the future; but not now, at the beginning of their relationship, and certainly not if she didn't want one.

He trembled in anger. This bastard was systematically destroying his dreams for the future. He'd already lost his chance to make their first time special. It would forever be tainted by memories of this place. He had never rushed her into anything and he never would. He'd hoped one day she'd change her mind and want a larger family than the two of them and Parker, but he'd never imagined a situation like this. Fury sent his blood pulsing through his veins, followed quickly by guilt. He was supposed to protect her. Not only had he been unable to rescue her, but he'd been trapped himself.

Pushing his fury and guilt away, Booth forced himself to tune into her voice.

"Like I said, I would never choose to bring a child into the world knowing what I do. But I haven't exactly had a choice in this situation. Biologically, life begins at conception and I would never willingly take an innocent life. But I'm not sure I would be a good mother. I'm not a very nurturing person."

Although her tone was steady, he recognized her insecurity. "You know, you might surprise yourself. Nurturing comes more easily to some than others, but every mother has to learn the same way – first-hand experience – and you're a very fast learner. Also, what makes you think you'd be excluded from the anthropological imperative for women to preserve the species and care for the young?" he asked softly.

"I'm just trying not to think too much about it at the moment," she admitted.

She had to end this conversation. It had taken an uncomfortable turn. In a louder voice she said, "Next time I'm putting the handcuffs on you, Muscles."

"In many cultures, rites of passage are celebrated with special ceremonies," she whispered during their next private moment.

"Rites of passage?" Booth questioned softly, wondering what she was thinking. "What has that got to do with anything?

"Rites of passage are life events: birth, death, reaching adulthood, marriage, the first time someone goes to war," she replied, ignoring his second question.

Booth was still confused. "But you think marriage is an antiquated ritual." It was so much fun to get her riled up; he hoped she would take the bait. They hadn't had a good argument in days.

She glared. "My main objection is that it perpetuates male domination in society. I suppose there's nothing wrong with marriage per se, but rather the problem is with the expectations that go along with it. Like I said, I don't need a piece of paper to show my commitment. Anyway, even our culture has certain rituals associated with different rites of passage. Births are celebrated with baby showers, and marriage with bridal showers and bachelor parties. Going out for drinks at age twenty-one is a common celebration associated with reaching adulthood."

"And why exactly are we talking about this?"

"Well, I kind of like the idea of forever," she admitted. "You know, if things continue to go well."

But they'd pushed the limit of their private conversation and their captor commanded, "No more whispering!"

"In many cultures, body painting, tattooing, or scarring is part of the rites of passage. For example, the Maori of New Zealand have a body modification technique called tā moka. Many parts of the body were marked. Some marks were created as part of rites of passage, others for beautification or indications of status," she said after their next "entertainment" session.

"Why are you going on about rites of passage?" he demanded in a harsh whisper.

"I… well," she began nervously, "You know I've been trying to figure out what do when we run out of ways to use our props."

"Uh huh?"

"Well, I was thinking…" she said clearly, but then she descended into mumbling and he could only catch a few words here and there. "…scarring… that design… assert your alpha male tendencies… commitment."

"Red," he hissed. "Just say it."

"It's not exactly a usual rite of passage, but for the first time ever I can see myself staying with one person for the rest of my life. We could think of it as our commitment ceremony – that we'll try to be together forever. "

"So are you saying we could somehow tattoo ourselves with that design while we're here?" he asked. He was elated to hear her talk about forever. It's what he was hoping for.

"Not exactly."

"Well, what then?" he demanded.

"You're not going to like it."

"I already guessed that by the way you're dancing around the subject."

"You know that design? If we have no options left, I thought we could, you know, mark each other with it."

"Mark how, with what?"

"A knife," she mumbled. "It would leave a scar."

"I… you… want me to cut your skin and vice versa?" he exclaimed.

"Not really," she replied harshly, "but if it's that or dying? I'll do it."

"No, absolutely not. I like the idea of a commitment rite of passage, but I could never do that to you. Besides, he'd never give us a knife."

"I could convince him."

She was probably right and that made him feel possessive. Their captor had no right to interfere in their relationship. He had seen her, _all _of her, and seen them in positions that should be private. Booth's rage boiled over.

As he furiously struck the punching bag repeatedly, he wondered how she could put the ideas of commitment and self-mutilation together. One was so beautiful and the other so terrible; they should never be mentioned in the same conversation. He let one or two last punches fly before stepping back and sucking in deep draughts of air, trying to regain his composure.

He glanced at his hands and realized that he should have stopped hitting the bag sooner. Two of his reddened knuckles were split, oozing blood and leaving small smears on the bag. Cold from the floor seeped into the soles of his feet as he crossed the room to wash his hands.

During the rest of their rest period, he had to keep pushing away images of her beautiful, smooth skin marred by hideous scars.

The next time they "entertained" their captor, things between them were fast and furious. Neither was happy with the other and it showed.

"Look, you can just think of it as some weird BDSM thing if you want," she whispered, pushing her point.

"No!" he replied, turning away.

"I don't think we have much of a choice. I don't really like the idea, but if we have to do something, at least we could make it meaningful."

"Yeah, and you know what? Every time I saw the scars afterward I would remember inflicting pain on you. I've been trying to forget how that feels."

"Yes, and that's why I knew you'd be able to handle it. And I'd be fine. I have a high tolerance for pain," she answered.

"This is not up for discussion, Temperance," he whispered fiercely. "We are NOT doing it."

"Well then, you'd better think of something else, because I don't want to die in here," she hissed in frustration. "I don't know why it's taking so long for them find us, but I don't want to experience what happens when our captor is unhappy. The last time Celia disappeared, and now he's holding her over our heads." She left out the fact that one of them could be used the same way; he already knew it and she just couldn't bear to think about the alternatives.

A minute later, she sighed. "I don't want to fight," she whispered. "We need each other to survive in here. I'm sorry. I'm sure we'll come up with something else."

He turned toward her. "Look, it's not a bad idea in general terms, but I just couldn't…" he said, struggling to explain. But there were no words to describe just how repulsed he was by the idea.

"Your latest version of the design looked really cool," he offered, trying to make amends.

She got up from the bed and retrieved her drawing pad.

Flipping to the page with the finished drawing she explained, "It represents us. The top row represents personal characteristics, the bottom our jobs."

He looked at it more carefully. The shield had four sections. Top left had a dolphin and two small stars, obviously representing Brennan. Top right had a large star with a second one inside it.

"The star is a protective sign, probably why it was chosen as part of the Army's symbology. This one represents your love of classic cars and that one needs no explanation," she said, pointing to the small Chevrolet logo inside the star and then a Celtic-style cross. She pointed to another symbol, a circle with a line running diagonally through it. A small line descended from the top end of the line, outside of the circle. "This is the ancient Greek symbol for a warrior."

The bottom left panel also contained three symbols, a line drawing in the shape of his FBI badge, a gun, and handcuffs. The bottom right had scales next to a skull and crossbones.

"This is incredible," he said. "We have our own… logo?"

Her laughter tinkled through the room. "Not quite a logo, but I suppose that's close enough."

They smiled at each other like the good friends they were.

"So, how about another round of speed Scrabble?" he offered. "I'm sure you'll knock the socks off me, but hey, at least it won't be boring."

"You're not wearing any socks," Brennan pointed out.

He looked at her in disbelief and she laughed.

"Just kidding, I know that one," she said with a wink.

He laughed much harder than the joke deserved, a nervous laughter that he had a hard time controlling.


	7. Manumission

**AN: Thank you for your patience. Here's the next installment of the story. Thanks to redrider6612, FauxMaven, and TotallyHonestReviewer1 for helping me keep it realistic and readable.**

Brennan woke up slowly and yawned. She glanced over at the clock and was surprised to find that it was ten minutes after their normal wake-up call. Maybe their captor was being nice to them.

She turned her attention to her companion. Booth was her partner, her confidante, her best friend, her boyfriend, and most recently her lover. And he was still sleeping, his chest rising and falling rhythmically with his breathing. As if it had a mind of its own, her hand stretched to touch him. There was something irresistible about him, especially when he slept. But then she pulled her hand back; there was no reason to awaken him to this prison.

Resting her head on his shoulder, she thought back to the first time she'd allowed herself to appreciate his physique. He'd been grazed by a bullet and had refused to go to a hospital for treatment. She had insisted on bandaging the wound herself, and had been unable to take her eyes off his naked chest. She'd also found it difficult to hold back her desire to touch him. Things progressed, slowly gaining speed until that fateful Sunday when he'd dragged her out of the lab and took her to his 'thinking' spot.

She smiled at the memory of the two of them lying together on a picnic blanket in a grove of trees, clad only in their bathing suits. That day she had finally admitted that she wanted a romantic relationship with Booth. With him, she was beginning to imagine a life she thought she could never have. She wasn't sure she was prepared for it, but she wanted it anyway.

And then this nightmare happened. They were keeping each other sane, but she was apprehensive about what it would do to their future together, _if_ they ever got out of here. So much had been taken from them, and Brennan felt as though she was reaching her breaking point. Something had to give and soon or she was going to… well, she didn't know what would happen, but it would be bad. Her hand tensed into a fist.

"Maybe it's time for a session with the punching bag," Booth suggested.

She started in surprise. "I didn't realize you were awake." Nodding toward the clock, she said, "Look at the time."

It was now half an hour after their captor usually greeted them in his disgustingly cheerful tone. He glanced at her, questioning. She returned the gaze and shrugged.

At that exact moment, someone knocked on the door. "Agent Booth? Dr. Brennan?" called an unfamiliar masculine voice.

"Yes?" Booth responded eagerly, jumping off the bed. He hadn't been carrying his badge when he was kidnapped. They weren't sure their captor knew he was FBI. So maybe… hope flared. Maybe this was rescue.

"Special Agent James Vatio, Missing Persons. We're sorry it took so long to find you," he said. "The cameras are all turned off. I'm going to push some clothes through the flaps. Knock when you're ready."

Brennan watched Booth's face. The lines of tension softened into lines of emotional exhaustion, but the light that had been missing from his eyes during their captivity had returned. A moment later, the clothes appeared.

"I… it's over?" the anthropologist asked in disbelief. She'd been waiting so long for this, but some part of her must have begun to believe they'd never get out. Maybe once they left the room she wouldn't have such a hard time wrapping her mind around it.

She was still staring at the pile of clothes when he pulled her into a tight hug. "We're getting out of here, Bones," Booth whispered, his voice cracking.

Then he leaned down and kissed her long and sweetly, their first truly private moment in a week and a half.

Grabbing the clothes, they began to dress slowly. When she was done dressing, she commented, "The clothes feel a little weird after being mostly naked for almost two weeks."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't want to go out there without them," he replied with a smile.

Brennan walked over to the bar and picked up her drawing pad and together they knocked on the door. Booth wrapped his left arm around her waist and they took a step back.

"I'm coming in with the EMTs," Vatio said, and then the doors opened outward.

"We're so glad you found us," Booth said, shaking Vatio's hand firmly. James Vatio was well-tanned and a few inches shorter than Booth, with spiky blond hair and regular features.

"What about Celia? Did you find her, too?" the anthropologist asked eagerly.

An unexpected look crossed Vatio's face as he replied, "Celia is safe."

An EMT approached them, distracting Brennan from asking more questions.

"We're fine," she told the woman firmly.

"We need to take you to the hospital for a checkup," the EMT informed them.

"And then you'll both need to give statements," added Vatio. "I'll have to take that pad as evidence."

"Guys, we know the drill. We've both been kidnapped before," Booth said in a placating tone.

He reached for the drawing pad, but Brennan held on. "Booth…"

"I know. But you'll get it back eventually." She didn't let go. He stepped closer and argued softly. "If this were any other crime scene, you'd insist on collecting all the evidence."

"But I…" She couldn't find the words to explain that letting the FBI take her drawings felt like letting tear away a part of her. In some ways, it was a relief – there would be fewer reminders. But she didn't want to lose the design she'd done for them either. It was too personal to share just now.

Booth tugged the sketch pad gently from her hands and handed it to Vatio. He pulled her into a tight hug to comfort her and to hide the tears welling in his eyes. He felt terrible, ripping away yet another thing that she didn't want to lose. He clung to her until he had his emotions under control. Then he slowly loosened his arms and waited for her to step away. When she didn't, he pulled his right arm free and slid the left down to her waist.

"Vatio, after we give our statements, I'm going to want a full explanation."

Brennan held back, happy to let Booth handle things for the moment. Her brain didn't have any trouble processing the fact that they were now free, but her emotions were a little bit behind and she felt off kilter. Okay, she was way beyond off kilter. Barely keeping it together was more like it. But she refused to suffer the indignity of breaking down before an audience.

They followed the agent and the EMTs out of the room and up a flight of stairs, passing the crime scene techs going down the stairs. Booth held her hand tightly the whole way.

The hallway at the top of the stairs opened into a large room filled with dusty shelves.

Brennan glanced at one of the banners and asked in disbelief, "We were at Circuit City this whole time?"

Vatio nodded apologetically.

"Then why did it take you so long to find us? This is practically where Celia and I were taken from!" demanded Brennan, fighting hard not to shout.

Vatio shrugged and replied, "I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan. Until you've given your statement I really can't enlighten you. I have to stay with the crime scene right now, but I'll meet you at the hospital in awhile."

He turned back toward the stairs and Clara and Robert, the EMTs, led Brennan and Booth into the parking garage.

"We thought this might be easier, since it will take your eyes a while to adjust to the light," explained Clara.

Brennan gave an internal sigh of relief when she saw that there was only one ambulance. She wasn't quite ready to be separated from Booth just yet.

"When it became clear that you two were alright, the other ambulance left with an agent who sustained a head injury," Robert explained.

During the ride to the hospital, Clara did a quick exam. She took their blood pressure and temperature, checked their ears, eyes, and throats with a flashlight, and listened to their lungs with the stethoscope.

When they arrived, she opened the door slowly to allow their eyes time to adjust to the light. Fortunately, the fall day was overcast so the transition didn't take long. A ray of sunlight shone through a gap in the clouds and Brennan closed her eyes and turned her face upward, basking in the light for a moment. It was good to be in the light again, to feel the breeze across her face, even to smell the exhaust fumes and hear the honking of cars. She allowed herself to simply be, to experience the world with her senses. Then the clouds shifted and the sunlight was gone.

The EMTs escorted them to a receptionist on the second floor and left them in her capable hands. A couple of minutes later, a nurse collected them. She stopped by the door of an exam room.

"Agent Booth," she said with a smile, gesturing him inside.

Brennan reached out and gripped his hand tightly. The upheaval of the day unsettled her and she hated hospitals, especially the antiseptic smell.

Understanding her unspoken request, he told the nurse, "We'd rather not be separated."

"We were going to put Miss Brennan in the next room."

"It's Dr. Brennan," Booth corrected.

Brennan smiled at him. He was even trying to defend her from perceived slights.

The anthropologist smiled at the nurse. "It's okay. There isn't a single millimeter of my body that he hasn't already seen and visa versa."

"Look, we've just been through a traumatic couple of weeks and we'd rather stay together for now," Booth pressed, tossing in one of his charm smiles.

Shrugging in surrender, the nurse gestured them into the room. "I'll be back in a moment with a gown for Dr. Brennan," she said.

Two minutes later they were left alone change into the gowns. While they waited, she glanced at the magazines in the rack, none of which looked remotely interesting. Then she sat next to Booth on the exam table, leaning into him and resting her head on his shoulder. He slipped his arm around her, reducing the cool air seeping in the back of her gown. She felt exhausted even though she'd had a good night's rest. Now that they were out, it was harder to push away the memories that niggled at the edge of her thoughts, waiting to burst through the smallest crack in her walls.

After knocking on the door, the doctor bustled into the exam room.

"I'm Dr. Patterson," he introduced himself, and then got right down to business. "I'd like to examine Dr. Brennan first."

Despite the doctor's brusque clinical manner, Booth did not like the idea of yet another man examining his partner, even if it was for health purposes. He gave himself a quick lecture on his alpha male tendencies as he glanced at her. At her shrug, he moved to the nearby chair, keeping hold of her hand and an even tighter grasp on his emotions.

Part way through the exam, Dr. Patterson commented, "You show signs of frequent recent sexual activity, and I was told you'd recently been through something traumatic. Should I do a rape kit?"

"A rape kit won't prove anything in this case," Brennan replied. "Would you order a pregnancy test, though? I was on the pill, but circumstances intervened."

"Do you think that's a good idea right now?" Booth asked. "I think we have enough on our plates at the moment without adding that. Knowing won't change anything."

"Maybe, but otherwise we'll just spend the next few days wondering."

"How recently could you have gotten pregnant, Miss Brennan?" Dr. Patterson asked, a bit bewildered by the conversation. He'd been warned that this wouldn't be a typical exam and that these were most definitely not typical patients, but he hadn't expected not to understand what they were talking about even though he heard every word.

"It's Dr. Brennan," she replied, "and I could have been impregnated anytime in the last nine days, or actually for the next two to four."

"In the past several years, tests have pushed back the earliest detection time but…" the doctor began.

"Oh, you're right. It's too early," Brennan interrupted. "The earliest pregnancy can be detected is seven days after conception. Sorry, I knew that. But I'm a bit distracted at the moment."

"You're an MD?" Dr. Patterson asked.

"No, PhD. I'm a forensic anthropologist, but I do keep up with the major medical journals."

"How likely is it that you're pregnant?" Booth asked.

"If I fall into the percentage of women who get pregnant right after they go off hormonal birth control, then it's very likely since we had sexual intercourse more than forty times in the past seven days. If you want the actual statistical probability, ask Zach," she answered matter-of-factly.

Dr. Patterson's eyes widened. "That certainly explains the vaginal bruising."

"Bones?" Booth asked softly.

"I'm okay, Booth," she replied, meeting his eyes steadily. In response to his stern expression, she added, "I was pretty uncomfortable yesterday."

The doctor completed his exam of Brennan and then it was Booth's turn. When he was done, he said, "Take it easy the next few days. Both of you need time to recover. You can get back into your clothes. A nurse will be by in a few minutes to check on you. I understand you have some visitors that are very anxious to see you."

Soon after they dressed, the nurse came back. "You'll need to head to the lab on the second floor for blood tests. They'll be expecting you. Shall I let your friends in now?"

They shared a look and then nodded simultaneously. Thirty seconds later, the squints crowded into the room. Silent reigned for a moment as their friends looked them over to make sure they were okay.

"I am so glad to see you, sweeties," Angela proclaimed before hugging each of them tightly. Hodgins followed suit.

Zach tried to say something but couldn't find the words. Booth smiled at him and nudged his shoulder with a fist.

Cam smiled and said, "Welcome back, Dr. Brennan, Seeley."

"Camille," Booth acknowledged her. "Don't call me Seeley."

"Don't call me Camille," she retorted, pleased to fall easily into the familiar exchange.

"So, what have you been doing while we were missing?" Brennan asked.

"Besides worry, you mean?" Hodgins asked. "Not much. Mostly we haven't been able to concentrate on work. Angela wanted to call Vatio for updates every five minutes, but I convinced her she shouldn't call more than once an hour. Except Zach. He went off into bone land with a vengeance."

"Are you two okay? I bet it was awful. I mean, how could someone do this to you?" Angela babbled. She hugged Brennan again.

An awkward silence descended on the room as the partners considered how to respond. Then Zach blurted out, "I have a limbo case that I need your opinion on, Dr. Brennan."

Cam said, "It'll have to wait a few days. She's got to take some mandatory leave."

"What?!?" exclaimed Brennan. "I don't want time off, I'd rather work."

"After the Gravedigger, the higher ups decided they needed a policy covering this type of situation. You have to take a minimum of two days leave before returning to work and pass a psychological evaluation before you will be allowed to do field work," explained Cam.

Seeing that the news wasn't sitting well with her friend, Angela shooed the others out of the room.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," she said apologetically. "I'll take a few days off and we can watch movies, go shopping, or something."

"Thanks, Ange, but Booth will probably have to take some time off too."

Angela looked them both over. She smiled at the closeness she saw between them, but frowned as she noticed their exhaustion. Booth was in protective mode, and Brennan wasn't even objecting.

"You guys look terrible. It must have been awful. The FBI didn't say anything other than that they'd found you and that you were physically okay. What happened?" Brennan appreciated the concern in her friend's voice, but she just couldn't talk about it.

Seeing the pained look on Brennan's face, Angela quickly added. "You know what? I don't really need to know. But if you ever want to talk about it…"

Celia rushing through the open door saved her from having to reply. "I'm so glad you're okay," she said and hugged Brennan tightly for about thirty seconds. Then she tensed and pulled away, memories overriding her relief. She backed quickly out of the room, her expression full of anguish.

Brennan sighed. "Ange, would you mind going out and finding Sam? He's Celia's boyfriend, and he's probably here somewhere. I really need to talk to him."

When Angela was gone, she couldn't hold the emotions and memories away any longer. She collapsed into Booth's arms and began to weep. He rocked her back and forth, wondering what was going on.

Finally, her sobs abated and she sniffed a few times. "Before you arrived, things got really bad. He figured out that we had been faking and he was really angry. You know what the room was set up for. I didn't feel like we had any choice, so I told her how to cope and then…" She paused and swallowed the huge lump in her throat. "She didn't want me to, but he told us he would let us freeze to death."

Booth's eyes widened. "You knew to tell her how to cope?"

"The foster parents of the second family I stayed with when I was in foster care were really cool. But their only son… he was a different story. He was a year older than me and he bullied everyone and took what he wanted, including me. For a couple of months, he forced his attentions on me regularly, until I misbehaved badly enough that they sent me back into the system," she answered softly, searching his eyes for a reaction and afraid of finding rejection there.

She had gone through so much, yet she was such an amazing woman. Booth contained his anger at the guy who had raped her, putting it away to deal with another time. She needed him right now.

He pulled her into a tight hug. "I love you, Temperance."

"Really?"

"Yes, really," he replied firmly. "It must have been hard, doing that, when you knew what it felt like to be the victim."

"You have no idea. I feel so awful." She shed a few more tears.

"We'll get through this, Temperance," he promised. "I'm not leaving."

Brennan searched for the words to tell him exactly how much it meant to her, but came up empty. She smiled up at him through a few unshed tears and said softly, "Thank you."

Sam entered the room and Brennan surreptitiously wiped the tears from her eyes before standing. She remembered meeting him and Celia at a dance club six weeks before and thinking they made a cute couple. While Booth had danced with Celia, Sam had told her that the two met a little over two years ago. They'd been on two double dates since that night. She wondered how he would take the news she was about to give him.

"Hi Sam," she greeted him.

"Hi, Temperance. Seeley," he said cautiously. "Angela said you needed to talk to me about something."

"Has Celia told you about what happened?" she asked him hesitantly.

"Some, but I know there's more."

"She's going to need your support, lots and lots and lots of it. I think I'd better tell you what happened. The man who kidnapped us demanded 'erotic' entertainment. We were threatened into performing sexual acts." Brennan sniffed, pushing away more tears. "She's probably… tell her I'm so sorry. I hope we could still be friends eventually, but I understand if she doesn't want to."

She wiped away tears and continued, "This is the third time I've been kidnapped. Booth probably understands better than anybody how you're feeling." She wanted to tell Sam that he should seek out Booth if he needed to, but she couldn't offer Booth's help.

"We could shoot some hoops," Booth offered, knowing the other man enjoyed the occasional game of basketball.

"I'll think about it," Sam replied, his voice tight with anger. "Right now, I need to get back to Celia. I… I can't really say 'thank you' for telling me, but I can see why you thought I needed to know." He left the room swiftly.

Brennan took a few deep breaths and locked her emotions away. Booth watched as her mask slid into place.

"I'm ready to head to the lab," she said.

"Okay, Bones, let's go."

As they walked down the corridor, Booth expressed one of his biggest fears. "I understand why you need your 'dealing with corpses' face right now, but please don't shut me out in an attempt to deal with this."

Her expression softened momentarily. "I don't think I could do that, even if I wanted to. You've broken down too many of my walls." She stretched up and kissed his cheek softly, and then her impassive expression was back. She turned and continued walking, leaving Booth to marvel at her inner strength. She really was a remarkable woman. With a wry smile and a shake of his head he hurried to catch up to her.


	8. On The Outside Looking In

**AN: In the last chapter, Booth and Brennan were rescued. In this one, we find out why it took the FBI so long to find them. Thanks to redrider6612, FauxMaven, and TotallyHonetReviewer1 for their input. This chapter was tricky to write and they helped me make sure the explanations were clear, the characters were in character, and that the situation was addressed with the gravity it deserves.**

Special Agent James Vatio found the partners at the hospital's lab just as they finished.

"I'm sorry, but we really need to get your statements now."

Booth nodded and Brennan said, "We understand."

Vatio suppressed a sigh of relief that they weren't going to stonewall him. These two were known for being exceptionally stubborn.

"I borrowed a couple of exam rooms, so we can do this here and then you can go home," he explained as he led them down a hallway.

"Dr. Brennan, Special Agent Julia Baker is waiting for you in this room," Vatio said, "and Booth and I will be in the room across the hall."

Vatio opened the door, introduced the two women, and then withdrew.

Brennan examined the other woman. She was slender and petite with light brown hair. 'A good breeze would probably knock her over,' Brennan thought. 'She looks so unassuming and innocent, which is probably useful when she's asking questions.'

Meanwhile, Julia Baker had decided that Brennan looked nervous.

"Dr. Brennan, it's an honor to meet you. I enjoy reading your books. Please call me Julia," she said, trying to ease into a difficult conversation.

"Um… thanks." She never knew what to say when people complimented her on her writing.

"So, why don't you tell me how you know Celia?" the agent asked, hoping put Brennan at ease.

Brennan smiled as she answered, "Booth and I met Sam and Celia on our first date."

Julia interrupted. "You remember that this whole conversation is being recorded, right?"

A moment later, Brennan's confused expression gave way to understanding. "Oh, you mean the date thing? It's okay; Cullen knows. Although I don't believe it's general knowledge yet, we're not hiding the change in our relationship."

"So, about that date?"

"Booth took me to a nice restaurant and then we went swing dancing. That's where we met Sam and Celia. The place was so crowded, there were no empty tables. So they asked to sit with us." The memory was so strong she could almost hear the music and feel the heat of the club.

"Is Booth good? Because it's always a bummer when your date thinks he can dance, but really has two left feet."

"Can he dance?" Brennan laughed. "In high school, he and his partner went to the national swing dancing competition. Celia's a dance instructor, and you should have seen them dance together. It was amazing."

The agent was dumbfounded. "Wait, you're telling me that Special Agent Seeley Booth danced competitively in high school? I don't believe it."

Brennan nodded. "He said he hadn't danced swing in years. Please don't say anything, I don't think he wants everybody to know. We wouldn't want to ruin his macho image." She smiled at the other woman.

"So, tell me about the day you met Celia for lunch."

Although the anthropologist found the other woman likeable and easy to talk to, her impassive mask fell into place as she began to recite the events of the past couple of weeks. When she started describing Celia's last day in the basement her voice became just a bit ighter. The mask cracked momentarily as Brennan described how Celia had gone practically catatonic.

"I can't believe I did that," she said bitterly. "It was pointless and now she'll be scarred for the rest of her life."

Surprise flitted across the agent's face before returning to the open, friendly expression that characterized the rest of their conversation. Brennan didn't have time to wonder what had surprised her because Julia went on to her next question. "What happened after that?"

Brennan continued, completing her story with the same detail as she had begun, expressing no emotion.

"Thank you for your cooperation. James, Special Agent Vatio, asked that I put a message on the door and then we're supposed wait here until they knock," Julia said, getting up and opening the door to tape the paper on the other side.

"So, Booth swing dances." Now that the interview was over, she could indulge her curiosity. "What else is he good at?"

Brennan looked at her a moment and replied, "Shooting people and reading them. Thinking with his gut."

The agent smiled. "I meant non-job related things."

"Um… he's protective of his friends and family. He loves his son. He wants to make the world a better place."

Julia sighed. "He's good looking, he does his job well, and he's all those things too? He sounds perfect."

"He's also stubborn, arrogant, and very annoying."

In the room across the hall, Booth had finished giving his statement and was busy trying to get information about their case out of Vatio. The other agent, however, was wise to his tactics and wouldn't divulge anything.

Booth finally gave up. "We're done here right?" At Vatio's nod, he said, "I'd like to find Bones now."

The two walked into the hallway and Vatio knocked on the door of the room across the way. Vatio tossed Julia an amused look as the two partners carefully scrutinized each other, making sure the other was okay.

Vatio handed Booth his keys and wallet. "Your SUV is in the parking lot, and we've left a present for you on the seats."

Booth turned to Brennan with a smile. "So, Wong Fu's?"

Brennan nodded emphatically and the two took off shouting a hurried "Thank you" over their shoulders.

It took them a few minutes to find the SUV. Both were surprised to see the manila folders sitting in the front seats. Brennan frowned at Booth for opening her door, then picked up the folder and climbed into the passenger seat. She began perusing the file as he walked around the SUV, comforted by the normality of it.

"Look, he gave us copies of our file!" Brennan exclaimed as Booth slid into his seat.

"Why don't we wait and read them together at Wong Fu's?"

Brennan pursed her lips. She really wanted to find out why it had taken the FBI so long to find them.

"Okay, but if it takes too long to get there, I'm going to start."

"Well, then, I'd better step on it, huh?"

The traffic was light and soon the couple entered their favorite restaurant.

"G-man, Bone-lady! I was beginning to think you didn't like me anymore! You haven't been here in weeks," Sid chided.

"When you greet us like that, maybe we'd better find another favorite restaurant," Booth joked.

"I'm crushed. Seriously though, I missed you guys. You been out of town on a case or something?"

Brennan glanced at Booth, uncertain how to reply. She shrugged in response to the question in his eyes, so he said casually, "Nope, we weren't out of town, just kidnapped."

"Not again!" exclaimed the restaurant owner. "This makes the how-many-th time?" He stopped mid-sentence and tried to count up the number of times in his head, then gave up. "Someday those guys going to learn not to mess with the dynamic duo."

Brennan added, "At least we were together this time."

"I'll go get your drinks," Sid said with a smile.

They headed to their favorite booth and slid in on opposite sides. Brennan immediately opened her folder and began reading.

"There better not be any disgusting pictures in that folder," Sid warned when he arrived a moment later with her water and a Coke for Booth. "I can't have you driving my customers away."

She took a sip. "You weren't kidding when you said that the FBI had nothing for the first few days."

"I was so frustrated. I had never worked a case with so little evidence, and this wasn't just any case, you were missing," he said quietly. "I was so relieved when that phone call came; until then, we had no leads." He paused to let her read for a moment. "Let me know when you get to the part where I was taken, then we can both read along together."

He took a sip of his Coke and watched her as she read. Talking about those days brought back all the terror, anxiety, frustration, and helplessness he had felt. Now that they were safe, those emotions had turned to a raging anger against their perverted captor. He clenched and unclenched his fists, controlling the urge to pound the table, the seat, whatever else was within reach. He took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar smell of Chinese food, and reminded himself that they were free now and that the bastard was going to pay for what he'd done to them.

The sound of her sucking in air pulled him from his thoughts. She was pursing her lips. "You know what? Maybe we should finish reading the file at home. I'm gonna go ask Sid to make our food to go."

Brennan barely nodded in his direction as he slid out of the booth. At that moment, Sid arrived with their food already bagged. As he paid, Booth quietly thanked the man.

Ten minutes later, Booth opened the door to her apartment with his key and ushered her inside. When she didn't protest his gentlemanly behavior, he began to worry. The last two weeks had been hard on both of them, but instinctively he knew that it would take her a while to recover from the trauma. He pushed away the uncomfortable thought, saying cheerfully, "How about I get us some plates and chopsticks?"

She headed directly for the living room couch. He opened the refrigerator. "Hey, Bones," he called, "you want beer or wine? The milk and the juice have gone bad."

"Just water, please," she called back.

"Are you sure? You're out of bottled water," he said, knowing that she hated the flavor of the tap water.

"Yes, I'm sure." He was surprised until he remembered that there was a possibility she might be pregnant. He didn't want to think about it. Children were a joy, but he was still too close to the ordeal for the thought to be tinged with anything but anger, sadness, frustration and worry. Was there anything he could think about that didn't threaten to send him off the deep end?

He dropped a few ice cubes in a glass and added water, picked up their utensils and drinks and headed to the living room. He set everything down and opened up the bag. She didn't look up from the file.

"Why don't you put that down while we eat?" he suggested hopefully. Although they hadn't been underfed in the basement, this was the first time in a while that they'd been able to choose their food, and he wasn't sure he could enjoy it if she wasn't also eating.

To his relief, she complied and grabbed one of the take-out containers. He followed suit and the room was quiet for a while, the only sounds were those of chopsticks. With no case except their own to talk about, neither seemed to know what to say.

As Booth finished eating, he noticed a frown on her face. Hoping to distract her from her thoughts, he said, "You know, Bones, you really should get a TV. There are some good educational programs out there."

Instead of her usual objections, she looked at him a moment. "Maybe it's time I replace the one that I broke, huh?"

"I'd say it's way beyond time. It's been what… more than three years… since you've had one?"

His amazement was replaced almost immediately with worry. That had been too easy. She always argued when he made that particular suggestion.

He put the container back on the coffee table with a sigh. "That was sooo good."

"It was, wasn't it?" Brennan smiled as she stood and collected the chopsticks and empty boxes.

Two minutes later she was back with a full glass of water for herself and another beer for Booth.

She plopped onto the couch beside him, reached for the file, and began reading where she'd left off. As she read, her frown deepened, and suddenly she exclaimed, "The bastard! He lied to us."

"What?" Booth asked in confusion.

"Well, he told us he was holding Celia elsewhere, but he just dumped her back on the street, at the bus stop in front of the Circuit City. Celia must have remembered my instructions because she went straight to Angela at the Jeffersonian after the drug wore off, and Angela called the FBI."

"That must have happened after he called me," Booth replied thoughtfully.

A moment later her eyes widened as she realized the significance of the timing. "It wasn't for nothing," she said softly. "He called you because she wasn't a 'suitable playmate.'" She grimaced as she repeated their captor's words and then buried her head back in the file, trying to disguise her relief. At least… she shook her head as if the movement would shake off her unpleasant thoughts.

The next few paragraphs brought her a certain grim satisfaction. Celia's particulate evidence would clearly tie her to the basement. They were going to nail this guy, as Booth would say.

Booth opened his file, skimmed the first few pages quickly and then slowed down once he got to the part where he'd gone to the mall. The last thing he remembered was reaching down into the large trashcan for the phone. For the past ten days, he'd been wondering exactly how they'd managed to take him out of the mall without the FBI catching them immediately.

He read the reports by the various agents and scientists involved and then reassembled the details in chronological order.

The trashcan had been rigged with a pressure sensor. When he'd leaned over to grab the phone, a liquid had been sprayed up from the bottom of the trashcan, and he'd been knocked out. A teenage mall employee, Sammi Jordan, had entered the utility room, pushed him the rest of the way into the trashcan, put a large bag of trash on top and then wheeled him out the service hallway to the trash bins.

The agent watching the service exit had noticed Sammi, but had thought nothing of it. Several large trash bins were enclosed by a wall with exits on each end. Sammi pushed the can into the enclosure, removed the bag from the top, and pushed the can out the other exit.

He stepped back out the end he had entered and lit up a cigarette. When he'd smoked it down to the filter, he flicked the butt, retrieved the trashcan from inside the enclosure and returned to the mall five hundred dollars richer.

Twenty minutes later the FBI agent in charge, James Vatio, got suspicious, but it took another hour to figure out exactly what had happened. The trash enclosure was empty of everything except refuse. Somehow Booth had been moved.

Pulling Sammi in for questioning turned out to be useless. He'd been coming down off a drug high when a man had approached him. It had been dark, and the man had stayed in the shadows and wore a baseball cap pulled low over his face. The kid was desperate for money, so he'd quickly agreed.

By coordinating footage from the mall's various security cameras, agents identified three vehicles leaving the employee parking lot during the correct time period. A license plate check revealed that one of the three cars, a blue sedan, had been reported as stolen. Obtaining a warrant for the vehicle was easy, but they had to find it first.

Three days later, a local D.C. cop found the vehicle in the parking lot of a warehouse. A thorough search yielded particulate evidence and a few hairs, and the FBI impounded the car. However, the particulates were ordinary and none of the hairs matched the DNA in any of the databases, except Booth's. Trace evidence from the trunk showed that Booth had been drugged with Fentanyl, a narcotic easily obtainable on the street. Because of the dismal economic, many of the surrounding warehouses were empty, and the agents' canvass of nearby businesses came up dry.

A frustrating two days later, Vatio received a phone call and personally went back to interview Mathew Clark, who worked in the warehouse across the street. He'd been off work with the stomach flu for several days. When he'd returned, a coworker had mentioned the presence of the FBI, and he'd immediately recalled seeing a man park the blue sedan across the street when he'd glanced out of the break room to check the weather. The incident had stuck in his mind because the building was no longer in use. A session with Angela yielded a sketch of the suspect. She fed the image into the various databases, and she and Vatio waited impatiently for a match.

Several hours later, Vatio left to obtain a warrant for the arrest of Calvin Pitts, a small-time criminal for hire who had been down on his luck since he'd botched a job the year before. He had served time for several small crimes; law enforcement suspected he'd been involved in larger things, though they had no proof.

Two days after that, a local cop attempted to pull the suspect over for running a red light and he took off. A short car chase later, he was arrested for both kidnapping a federal agent _and_ resisting arrest.

Agent Vatio convinced him that cooperating would be in his own best interest and he answered all of their questions. He had met 'LadyKiller' in an online chat room several months before. They had initially bonded over their mutual love of the female body. The two moved onto more personal topics and found out they both lived in the Washington D.C. area. Once Pitts had made an off-hand comment about work being hard to come by. When 'LadyKiller' offered him five thousand dollars plus expenses to move someone from point A to point B with the potential for more work, he jumped at the chance.

Two hours after the interview, a computer technician was in possession of Pitts's computer. Early the next day, she had tracked down LadyKiller's Internet service provider. The ISP cooperated when presented with the warrant and provided the FBI with the name Powell Fitzhugh and his address. The computer technician also turned up a domain name registered to Fitzhugh and verified that it was indeed the type of website that Brennan had suspected, a soft porn site, and that videos of Celia, Brennan, and Booth were posted on it.

The man's apartment was empty, but a neighbor told Agent Vatio that he'd been recently divorced, so Vatio went to meet Fitzhugh's ex, Susanna. Susanna was very forthcoming. She had divorced her husband because he had become increasingly obsessed with "kinky sex" and she had found pornography in the tire well of his car as well as evidence that he'd been cheating on her. He had been a good man, but growing up poor and ordinary looks had left him with a chip on his shoulder. He was a store manager for Circuit City, but he'd never been satisfied with the money he made and was always coming up with ways to climb the corporate ladder and other schemes to earn money quickly.

It took several hours for the FBI team to compile the information they needed on the Circuit City location before they could start planning their method of entry. Several agents coordinated with the company that hosted Fitzhugh's website to shut it down after the building was secured.

Curiosity satisfied for the moment, Brennan glanced at her partner and saw that he looked disturbed. She put a hand on his knee, trying to comfort him.

He looked up. "These guys didn't even know the FBI would be looking, and yet they still left very few traces."

"Our captor seemed very competent. Maybe it wasn't accidental. I mean, the room had been used more than once, right? He was probably being careful because he expected that someone would tell the police eventually."

Booth glanced at the clock. He couldn't believe it was only 3PM. The day felt like it had lasted forever.

"You know what? I don't want to think about this for the rest of the day," he announced. "Why don't we go get you a TV and DVD player and watch movies all night?"

He tossed one of his trademark charm smiles her direction, and she didn't even consider disagreeing.

"Grab your shoes and coat, Bones. The day's wasting," he proclaimed.

"I think I'd like to change before we leave. These clothes smell like the hospital." She headed in the direction of her room.

Booth got up and followed her, pausing a moment at the door until she invited him in. While she looked in the closet, he pulled open the drawers of her dresser. He stopped at the sight of the lingerie in the third drawer and then hastily slammed the drawer shut, just as Brennan walked out of the closet holding a pair of jeans and a well-worn shirt.

The drawer of lingerie evoked thoughts of the "props" box their captor… 'No. Fitzhugh,' Brennan mentally corrected herself. Her anger erupted immediately from behind the wall where she had stuffed her emotions.

"I… how could you, Booth?" she ground out, brows drawn together.

"I'm s… sorry," he stammered. "I was just curious. I didn't mean to…"

She stalked out in the middle of his muddled apology and returned a moment later with a black plastic trash bag.

"Put everything in that drawer into this bag and throw it out. I'm getting dressed."

Then she thrust the bag into his hand and went into the bathroom. He stared after her. He'd never seen her that angry, but in a way he was glad that she was letting her emotions out. It was an indication of her trust in him that she was willing to let go around him, but he still felt bad being on the receiving end and even worse that he'd caused it.

He hurriedly opened the drawer and scooped the contents into the bag, doing his best not to look at them, and quickly exited the apartment in search of the nearest trash bin.

When he returned several minutes later, she was dressed and waiting for him. As they headed to his car, she apologized. "I'm sorry for going berserk on you. I… I just…"

He pulled her into his arms. "Sh… it's okay, sweetheart. Believe me, I understand," he said softly, stroking her back. "We'll get through this… together."

She looked up at him and saw absolute sincerity in his face.

"I… you… maybe… " She stopped, unable to put her feeling into words.

"I know this is a messed up situation, but I meant it when I said that I wanted forever with you."

At that, she burst into tears and he tightened his arms around her in response, happy to absorb her emotions and tears. He shed a few of his own, but she didn't notice.

When the storm had passed she sniffed. "I think that's the most wonderful thing anyone's ever said to me." A hard tight laugh escaped from her throat. "And I can't believe I cried on you again. I've cried more in the past two weeks than I did in the past two years."

"It's normal to be emotional after something like this. You can't always keep things inside, or someday you'll have a breakdown. I'd be more worried if you were acting like nothing had happened."

She looked at him for a moment as if he were a specimen from another planet. "Are you sure you're not a psychologist?"

"Who me?" he asked innocently.

"Maybe I should start calling you Dr. Booth!" she teased.

One moment she was sobbing and the next she was teasing him? He'd never seen her change moods so quickly. Commenting on it seemed like entering a minefield, so he kept his observation to himself.

Together, they turned and headed toward his car and the TV that was waiting to be purchased.


	9. Slow Dancing

**AN: I'm so sorry for the long delay. I moved continents and life intervened. Thank you for your patience. Thanks to my wonderful betas, FauxMaven and redrider6612.**

Brennan and Booth stood in a long line at Best Buy. She held a paper for the flat screen TV he'd selected. Their cart contained a DVD player, asound system, a wall mount, a receiver, and a bunch of cables.

As they inched toward the checkout, she couldn't believe it had taken three hours to select everything and that he'd talked her into buying all this. Granted, the sound system hadn't been a hard sell; her music would sound much better. She wasn't sure she needed such a fancy TV, but apparently he'd thoroughly researched the best models of TVs and DVD players before, well… before the basement. Anytime she'd started to object or say that it didn't make a difference to her, a charm smile would cover his face and she just didn't have the heart to deny him.

'I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose; I've never been good at saying no when he gives me that smile.'

Finally, an employee gestured them to an open register. After the boxes were on the counter, Booth handed her the keys and said, "I gonna run back and pick up something I forgot. Meet me at the car in a few minutes?"

Brennan looked at him in confusion and then shrugged. She had to wait for them to bring out the TV anyway. She slid her card and signed for the purchase on automatic pilot, then moved to the front of the store. After reading the advertisements, her thoughts began to wander. Had it really been just this morning that they'd been rescued? The day seemed to last forever. Being free again felt good, but the day had been tainted by the necessity of telling her story, unexpected reactions to ordinary things and an overwhelming flood of emotions.

She hoped he would return soon. Somehow he was helping her to cope. She wasn't sure when she'd become one of those needy women who…

The voice of a Best Buy employee broke into the downward spiral of her thoughts. "Excuse me, miss, I believe this is your TV," he said, gesturing toward the box on the cart. "Would you like help getting it to your car?"

She glanced at the line, noticing that it had gotten significantly shorter while she waited. Yep, there was Booth.

"Sure," she replied, leading the employee out of the store. Booth walked up as the last of the boxes was loaded into the back of the SUV.

"Thank you," she said to the young man. Turning to Booth, she asked, "So, what'd you get?"

"What, this?" he lifted the large bag so she could see it before putting in the back seat. "It's a gift for Parker, and a surprise for later tonight."

'For someone who hates computers, he sure loves other electronics,' she thought, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a smile.

"Well, I'm not giving you the keys until you tell me what's in the bag."

He smiled a predatory smile and then backed her up against the SUV. "Is that so, Dr. Brennan?"

A pleasant shiver shook her and, surprisingly, desire pooled deep in her belly. After the number of times they'd been together in the past seven days, she thought she'd reached her limit. But his voice could be so sexy and sometimes that was all it took.

She leaned up to kiss him, but he snatched the keys out of her hand with a triumphant "Got 'em."

"No fair, Booth." After everything that happened that day, she was surprised he still managed to evoke such a visceral response from her.

He ignored her protest, dropped a soft kiss on her lips, walked around the car and climbed into the driver's seat. She pestered him about the contents of the bag all the way back to her place, but he stubbornly refused to tell.

Once they had hauled all the boxes to her apartment, she ordered his favorite pizza to be delivered. Booth enjoyed eating some of the unhealthiest foods, but she wouldn't deny him the small pleasure.

"I… um… do you mind if I call Rebecca?" They hadn't told Rebecca that they were dating yet and he was uncertain about how the two parts of his life were going to mesh. "She's probably going to be unhappy."

"Last weekend was your weekend with Parker, wasn't it?" she asked, realizing why he'd felt the need to buy his son a gift.

He nodded.

"Why didn't you call her earlier?"

"She hates it when I call her at work."

"I'll never stand in the way of what you need to do for, or with, Parker," she answered seriously. "Call her."

He pulled out his phone and dialed, bracing himself for the storm to come.

"This is Rebecca."

"Hi, Becca," he said hesitantly.

"Seeley Booth, don't you call here and then talk like nothing's happened. You told me that your son was more important than your work. Then you don't show up at school to pick up Parker and you don't call or anything. He spent all evening wondering when you were going to show up. Then mid-morning on Saturday, _your boss_ calls and says you were sent out of town on work. Not you, not your partner, but your boss! Parker deserves more than that. I spent the whole weekend trying to cheer up a sad little boy. And then you haven't even called to see how he is or anything."

His sarcastic side wanted to reply with "Wow, why don't you tell me how you really feel!" but that wouldn't help the situation. Instead he said, "Look, I'm sorry I didn't call. I didn't have access to a phone, and neither did Dr. Brennan." She began to interrupt, but he continued. "I wasn't working last weekend, I've been kidnapped for the past ten days."

Fully expecting her to launch into another tirade, he was surprised when she asked, "Are you okay?"

"Physically, yes. The situation was… difficult," he answered carefully.

"And Dr. Brennan was with you."

"Yes. Listen, is there any chance I could see Parker this weekend? Maybe have him for the day either Saturday or Sunday?"

In the background, he heard Parker ask, "Who you talking to, Mom?'

She sighed as she replied, "Your dad."

A moment later, his son was on the phone, "Daddy! Why didn't you call me last weekend? Even when you work you still have your phone."

"I… um… I missed you bub. I really wanted to spend the weekend with you."

"Will I see you soon?"

"Your mom and I were just talking about that. Why don't you put her back on and we'll see, okay?"

"Okay, Dad."

"I love you, Parker," Booth said quietly.

Rebecca said, "It's me again."

"I… what do I tell him, Becca?"

"I don't know, Seeley. But you can pick him up at the usual time on Sunday. Just bring him home by 7PM."

"Thanks. I'll see you Sunday."

He snapped the phone shut and stared at it for a moment as he contemplated exactly what he should tell Parker. The doorbell distracted him from the unpleasant options swirling in his head.

"I'll get it," he said, reaching for his wallet while he headed for the door. A moment later, he returned with the pizza and soda.

He dumped the box on the counter and handed her the two-liter. He flipped open the box and grabbed a piece from his half, taking a big bite and chewing it slowly. He sighed in satisfaction. "There's just nothing like a good hot slice of pizza."

She looked at him like he was crazy. "Pizza is not a very healthy food choice, Booth." She took a deep breath as if she was gearing up for one of her lectures, but he thrust a slice into her mouth as she opened it.

"Just enjoy it," he mumbled through his second piece.

She wanted to frown and object to his tactics, but the pure enjoyment on his face melted her resolve and she took another bite. He was right, it did taste good.

"So, you have Parker on Sunday?"

He smiled. "Yes. And Rebecca wasn't even too hard on me after I told her what happened." He sobered immediately. "Cullen told her that I had to work. I could tell Parker was disappointed about missing our weekend. What am I going to tell him?"

"He may be a child, Booth, but he deserves the truth," she answered gently. "You just need to figure out the right way to describe what happened so that he understands, but isn't scared about it happening again. And it's not likely to happen again, since they caught the guy. I'm sure you'll figure it out."

"Thanks, Bones. I'll do that."

After a short pause he pointed at the boxes standing in her living room and said, "So, what do you say we get that set up?"

"Booth, where are we going to put a TV of that size?"

He looked around the room and realized that they were probably going to have to move a few things around. "How about we put it above the fireplace? We could move some books and put the DVD player on one shelf."

"But I like that picture there. And I don't want the TV to be the center of my living room. I tried to tell you at the store, but you weren't listening."

"So where should we put it?" he asked, a bit chagrined.

"How about above that table?" she said, pointing toward a long narrow side table that held various artifacts. "I could move the masks, but this way we don't have to move any of the bookshelves."

He looked at the corner. The couch or chairs might have to be angled a bit when they wanted to watch TV, but it worked. "Okay."

Several hours later, everything was set up. Brennan had found an extra power strip in the closet of her home office, and he'd run to his apartment for some tools so that he could put the chords behind the wall.

"If you get cable, a DVR or something else you can just plug it into the receiver," he explained proudly.

"I'm not planning to add anything to this, but you've done a great job."

She almost laughed out loud when his chest puffed at her praise.

"So, are you ready to test this?"

"Sometimes, Booth, you're just like an overgrown kid."

"Maybe, but you like me anyway. Plus, I'm ready to show you the surprise in the bag." He picked it up and shook it enticingly.

"It's about time."

He pulled a DVD out of the bag and handed it to her.

"Dance Dance Revolution Hottest Party," she read aloud, puzzled.

She looked up at him and saw he was holding out another box. "It's a Wii. That game is for us and I bought some others for Parker."

He opened the box and began setting it up. She supplied him with the code for her wireless network and AA batteries.

When he was finished, he offered her a Wii Remote. "You ever play a video game, Bones?"

"I used to play Galaga against my brother."

"Well, this is a bit different than an arcade game. Let's try the game that came with the box first and then we can try the other one."

"I don't really see the point in video games."

"Just try it. Maybe you'll have fun."

Booth was surprised when he had a hard time with bowling and she beat him by five points. After she got a little intense with boxing, they decided to try the other game. He pulled out two boxes with dance pads.

"I saw some kids playing this at the arcade and I thought it looked fun. But I'd never do this in public."

"So, you bought it so we could humiliate ourselves in private?"

"You don't even know what the game is yet and you're already labeling us humiliated? Come on, at least give it try."

"Well, you were trying to do something nice, so I guess we can try it."

"Yes!" He pumped his fist into the air.

He plugged in the pads, opened the game and inserted the disc into the Wii. A dizzying series of images played on her new TV screen, accompanied by loud music. After a moment, a menu appeared and Booth selected the training option. Soon both were busy trying to follow the instructions on the screen with their feet. After going through several of the training levels, they took a break to get some water.

"The game is very aerobic," Brennan commented.

"Yep. It's fun and you get exercise at the same time. Pretty good for a video game, huh?"

She shrugged and drained her glass, before heading back to the game. When they'd completed two more training levels, Brennan was too tired to continue.

"I'm not sure this is exactly what the doctor had in mind when he said we should take it easy."

"Hey, after being cooped up for a week and a half, I needed a change of exercise routine. Besides, I'm pretty sure he was talking about um… the sex… when he said that."

"I still can't believe you're uncomfortable talking about that with me," she said with a small laugh.

"It's not you I'm uncomfortable talking about it with, it was the doctor mentioning it that made me uneasy, and it's not like the past few days have been a walk in the park."

While Booth was in the bathroom, she called Angela. Her friend picked up on the first ring.

"Hello, sweetie. How are you?"

"Pretty well, all things considered. I was calling to let you know I was okay and to see if maybe we could all do lunch tomorrow."

"That sounds good. How about we meet at that new Thai restaurant at the mall?" Angela suggested.

"That works. I'll check with Booth and get back to you in morning."

"Okay, then, I'll see you tomorrow, sweetie."

"Bye, Ange."

She looked up to see Booth leaning casually against the hallway doorframe.

"That was Angela on the phone?"

She nodded. "I'm still thirsty, how about you?"

While Brennan grabbed them some more water, Booth plopped down on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table.

"I saved a spot for you right here," he said, patting the cushion next to him after she set down their glasses.

She settled beside him, snuggling into his chest. He wrapped an arm around her. A sense of security flooded her, and a rush of gratitude. He was a man of his word, and this proved it. Suddenly she felt sure that everything that had happened would make them stronger, not split them apart. Maybe they _could_ have forever.

The comfortable silence went on, and soon both began to doze.

"It's getting late," Booth said with a yawn, "maybe I should get going."

Panic rose in Brennan. "You don't have to leave," she said quickly. "You can stay here."

Hearing the desperation in her voice, he hastened to reassure her. "I don't really want to leave, but I didn't want to assume…"

"You've been keeping me sane the last week or so, and since I can't go into work like I normally would…"

"I'll go get my overnight bag from the car. Save a spot for me in bed, okay?" he said with a saucy wink.

He returned while she was brushing her teeth, and she scooted over to make room for him at the sink. Although this was a new development in their relationship, it felt comfortable. Soon they were both lying in bed, Brennan curled up against his side.

As he reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, she muttered sleepily, "You know what? Clothes still feel kind of weird to me."

"Me too, Bones, me too," he replied, thinking of how silky her skin felt underneath his hands and just how much beauty her sleep shorts and camisole were hiding. He smiled as sleep took him.


	10. Hiding In Plain Sight

**AN: Okay, so I could give you explanations and apologies, but they would take a long time and I suspect you don't really care. I'm sorry. I hope you enjoy this chapter and the next one shouldn't take as long.**

A small noise woke Booth the next morning, setting his sniper sense tingling. The squeaking of the floor indicated that someone was in the apartment. Instantly alert, he reached for his gun which he'd stashed on the bedside table. Silently he slipped out of bed and stood next to the door, peering carefully out.

Booth's movement woke Brennan. Rarely did she feel urge to stay in bed, but this morning she had an unusual sense of contentment. Perhaps that's why it took her a moment to notice that he had his gun. Curiosity and fear replaced her contentment and she shifted. He turned back to her and made a shushing motion before he slipped through the door. Moving as quietly as she could, she found her bat and padded quietly after him.

He moved up the hall stealthily, avoiding the creaks in her floor. He poked his head cautiously around the wall and almost dropped his gun in shock. At that moment, he felt Brennan at his back.

She was surprised to see the tension leave his shoulders, but to her annoyance she couldn't see around him into the living room. As she was about to nudge him forward, he shifted to the left, allowing her to see while still protecting her with his body.

When she saw the figure standing in her living room, she reddened in embarrassment. She wasn't sure if it was her state of undress or because he'd almost caught her in bed with her boyfriend.

"Surprise, sweetheart," Max Keenan said. His grin faded. "Although you managed to surprise me too. You should really put on some clothes."

"Dad! You have to stop breaking into my house."

"If you'd give me a key, I wouldn't have to break in."

"Oh, no," she replied firmly. "I have my own place for a reason. Why are you here?"

"I needed to know that you were okay."

"How did you know..." she began, but then changed her mind and said, "Why don't you wait here and we can talk about it after we're dressed?"

Max crossed his arms across his chest and sat down in one of the chairs, the set of his shoulders indicating he was not happy with the situation. She turned toward the bedroom.

When Booth didn't immediately follow, she pulled him a few steps into the hallway and kissed him soundly. Finally she pulled away and said in a husky whisper, "You wanna share my shower?"

'How can she be thinking about that with her father in the next room?' he wondered desperately.

"I… um… " he spluttered quietly, trying to find the right response. After the kisses, he wanted her so badly, but they were supposed to be resting. "I'm, um, not sure that's a good idea," he finally managed to respond.

She looked at him, her disappointment clear. "Okay," she responded dispiritedly.

"It's not that I don't want to, Temperance," he said tightening his arms around her, the breath of his voice caressing her ear. "It's just that I'm not sure I can resist you."

"I don't care if my father's in the other room."

"Well, I do. Besides, I was thinking more of the doctor's orders."

"Oh, right. For a moment I forgot about those. Still, I could use someone to wash my back."

He groaned. Was she trying to kill him?

"I'm gonna grab a glass of water."

From his place on the couch, Max watched the younger man get a glass of water and take a seat across from him. The two men studied each other seriously for a moment.

Booth broke the silence first. "She didn't tell you that we started dating?"

When older man shook his head, the agent replied, "Six weeks ago."

Max nodded and attempted stare him down, but Booth refused to be intimidated even though he was only in his boxers. However, he didn't want to be on bad terms with her father. "I love your daughter. I told her I wanted forever."

Max studied him grimly for a long, tense moment, then smiled. "It was obvious to me the first time I met you that you loved her, so I'm not exactly surprised. You're a good man, Booth. What happened? Is she okay?"

"She'll tell you what she wants to, but I think she'll be okay eventually. Honestly, I doubt she'll be willing to say much."

Max smirked at him. "Nice boxers, Booth."

Ignoring the flush staining his cheeks, Booth drained his glass and said, "I need to get back before she wonders where I wandered off to."

He joined her in the bathroom as she rinsed the last of the shampoo out of her hair. As she soaped herself, she watched him brush his teeth and shave, their eyes occasionally meeting in the reflection of the mirror.

Wrapping herself in the towel, she stepped out of the shower. She closed the distance between them, stroking the hard planes of his chest. As her fingers skimmed over the scar where he'd been grazed with that bullet, he smiled broadly, remembering that that had been the beginning.

He suppressed the desire to push her up against the wall and make love to her right then and there and stepped into the shower himself.

Twenty minutes later, they emerged from the bedroom ready to face the day and found Max still waiting for them.

"Can I get you some water, Dad?" she asked. "I haven't been to the store yet, so that's all I've got."

He shook his head. "I just need to know that you're okay."

Brennan dropped onto the couch opposite him, and Booth sat down beside her.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"I came to visit you, but I couldn't find you here or at work. So I went looking for Booth, and I couldn't find him either. Angela told me that he'd gone missing the day before. I've spent the last week and a half trying to find you, baby," he answered, a frown marring his normally congenial face. "There wasn't much to go on, and the cops picked up Calvin Pitts before I could get to him."

"It was pretty much a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time," she said quietly. "Not connected to you or our work."

Her father's curious expression clearly indicated he wanted to know more.

"I really don't want to talk about it, Dad." Booth snaked an arm around her shoulders as if he could somehow protect her from the memories. "We already gave our statements to the FBI and they've caught the persons responsible."

For a moment, the agent thought Max might press her for more information and he shot the other man a warning glance. Sighing in defeat, Max said, "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Brennan turned the conversation to his job. Now that the trial was over and he'd been acquitted, he gotten a job at the Jeffersonian to be closer to his children. After a few minutes, the conversation died down and Max got up to leave.

At the door, she hugged her father impulsively. "Thanks for looking for us, Dad."

"That was awkward," Booth commented when he was gone.

She shrugged.

Glancing at the clock, Booth realized they had about an hour before they were meeting the squints for lunch.

"Hey, do you want to go to the bookstore at the mall until we meet everybody for lunch?" he suggested.

"Okay, just let me get my shoes."

Fifteen minutes later, Brennan wandered into the biographies and Booth was looking at mysteries hoping to find something as good as her books.

Half an hour later, he found her sitting in a chair flipping through a book on forensics for the masses, muttering quietly to herself about the advances in forensics since the book had been published.

"We should probably head over to the restaurant now," he said softly. "It's at the other end of the mall."

"I'll just put this back on the self. It's several years out of date."

After they'd passed the Nordstroms, Booth saw a sign for the restrooms. "I need to use the bathroom."

She pointed to an empty bench surrounded by planters with green foliage. "I'll wait there."

She watched the people while she waited. A mother pushing a stroller hurried by. Bags weighed down a 40-ish woman in a stylish suit. A couple teenagers deep in discussion almost walked into a child who had wandered a few feet from his father.

A middle-aged man in jeans and a polo shirt approached the bench, so she slid to the end.

He looked her over slowly and Brennan suppressed the desire to bolt. Men had been checking her out since she was twenty-one or so, but this guy made her feel uncomfortable. He sat down much too close to her and said confidently, "You're Red, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she managed to say through her shock.

"Oh, honey," he leered, "you're too beautiful forget, and you're more beautiful in person than in the videos."

"I just want to be left alone."

"Aw, don't be like that." Reaching a hand out to touch her, he said suggestively. "I just want to see a few of your moves."

The moment his hand began to move, her arm swept up to intercept his. She grabbed his hand and bent his fingers back.

At that moment, a security guard walked by.

The man called, "Help. She's assaulting me."

The security guard turned toward them.

She glanced at the guard, whose nametag said 'Johnston,' and without letting go of his fingers said, "He was harassing me. I am merely defending myself against his unwanted advances."

Johnston looked at the two of them, unsure who to believe.

Pressing what he perceived to be his advantage, her harasser said, "Don't you recognize Red?"

At that, the guard looked at her more closely and nodded.

She sighed in exasperation. "I came to the mall to meet my friends for lunch, not to be leered at by a couple of perverts!"

"Hey! When you do that for the camera, you should expect it!" Johnston defended himself.

Finally, Booth emerged from the bathroom.

"Leave her alone," he commanded. She dropped the middle-aged man's hand and pushed past the guard roughly.

"Well, well, well! If it isn't Muscles too," Sleazy leered. "We just wanted to talk to Red here."

Booth glowered at both of them. "Leave us alone."

"Hey, buddy, you two are famous on certain parts of the Internet," Johnston said. "You should have expected to be recognized."

"Yeah," Sleazy chimed in. "Can I have your autograph and maybe a kiss?" He leered at her again.

Feeling the tension in her body, Booth pushed her behind him, hoping to prevent a physical confrontation. In a deadly quiet voice he said, "Women deserve to be respected regardless of how they act. If you don't turn around and walk away now, I'll arrest you both."

Sleazy laughed in derision. "You don't seriously expect me to believe you're some kind of a cop, do you?"

Johnston, however, backed away at the wild look in Booth's eyes. "Sorry, man. I guess I just wasn't thinking."

Sleazy looked at Johnston's retreating back and then at Brennan. The fury in her expression and the memory of her strong grip made him choose a strategic retreat.

When he was gone, Booth turned and wrapped his arms around her, sheltering her from the world. She buried her head against his shoulder, and he could feel her taking deep breaths to keep a lid on her emotions. He didn't know what made him angrier: the men's behavior or that they were in this situation because of the kidnapping.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. With one arm still holding her close, he called Angela. "We're not going to make lunch today."

"We can wait for you two," the artist offered.

"No, we're here, but we were recognized and not because she's a best-selling author, if you know what I mean. Maybe we can do takeout at the lab for dinner."

He snapped his phone shut and sighed. As he led her in the direction of the SUV, he wondered how long it would take before someone connected "Red" with Dr. Temperance Brennan, world-renowned forensic anthropologist and bestselling author, and how she would deal with it when it hit the evening news.

She was silent and tense the whole ride home; holding her emotions at bay had never been harder or required more effort. She vacillated between fury at their captor and the situation, disappointment with herself, guilt over her actions, and frustration that her emotions, which she had trouble understanding in the normal course of events, were changing so rapidly.

When they arrived at her apartment, she ground out, "I just want things to go back to normal; I want my life back."

"I think that's going to take a while for both of us, but I'll be here. I may not understand everything you're feeling, but you don't have to go through this alone."

She could tell from the expression on his face that he was thinking about her revelation about her time in the foster system.

Pushing aside her emotions for a moment, she smiled at him. "I know. You went through a lot of it with me, and I'm here for you, too." She laced her fingers through his.

After sitting a moment in silence, she said, "Let's go running. Vigorous physical activity usually helps me work off my frustration."

He looked at her for a moment in surprise. He'd seen so much emotion in her during the past day that he had expected her release to be more tears.

"That's a good idea, but I haven't got any running clothes here," he replied. "Do you mind if we go by my place?"

She shook her head and then headed to her room to change.

Soon they were at Rock Creek Regional Park running on one of the bike paths. After her warm-up, Brennan ran hard and fast, as though trying to outrun her memories. The weak rays of the late fall sun warmed the early afternoon and a thin sheen of sweat covered her body.

Booth ran silently beside her, letting the rhythmic sound of their footfalls lull him into a world inhabited by sound. After forty-five minutes she slowed to a jog and then a walk. He subtly directed them toward a particular destination.

When they were almost there, she asked, "We're going to your thinking place?" At his nod, she continued, "At the moment, I'd rather not think."

He smiled. "Trust me. I have good memories of us there."

She nodded. When they arrived, he immediately went to the rock overlooking the creek where he often sat. He patted the space in front of him in invitation. When she was seated between his legs, he scooted forward and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"You remember when we were here last?" he asked quietly in her ear.

"Uh huh."

"Something good happened that day," he said solemnly, with a hint of a smile in his voice. "A beautiful, intelligent woman agreed to become my girlfriend that day."

"I know; I was there. That woman thinks you're pretty great too."

He wanted to tell her that he loved her again, but hesitated. She'd handled it well at the hospital when she had needed reassurance that he would stay, but she hadn't said the words back to him then. He didn't want her to feel as though he was pushing her.

Unaware of his internal struggle, she pointed at a small squirrel collecting nuts across the creek from them. "Look at the squirrel."

As they watched, the animal found a nut and then carried it up one of the trees out of sight. A minute later it returned in search of another.

For a while, the warmth of the rock countered the coolness of the sweat drying on their bodies, but eventually Brennan began to shiver, so they headed back to the car.

As they drove back to her apartment, she said quietly, "Thank you. Somehow you managed to make a few minutes of normal."

Hearing pain mixed with the gratitude, Booth replied, "I needed it too. It's a skill I learned after I was out of the Army. It helps me cope. I find a place that's quiet and peaceful and live in the moment while I'm there."

"Right now it feels like my world has turned upside down and stopped, but watching that squirrel reminded me that life continues around me and there are safe places we can go."

Immediately he knew she was comparing the forest to their experience at the mall, but they had to keep doing things. Otherwise one event would poison their lives forever.

As if she could read his thoughts, the first thing Brennan did after they arrived at her place was to call Angela.

"Hi, Ange," she said, sounding almost cheerful.

"Sweetie, how are you?"

The answer "fine" was on the tip of her tongue, but her friend deserved better than that. "Right now, I'm…" She didn't know how to finish the sentence, so she tried again. "I don't think things will be normal for while. But one day, I'll be okay again."

Thinking about how she was doing set her emotions roiling again, despite her brave words to her friend, and the feeling that things would never be okay ever again overwhelmed her.

"I… um… I called to see if everybody was available for dinner. Maybe Booth and I could bring takeout to the lab," she suggested hopefully.

"I don't know if Cam has plans, but Jack and I aren't busy and Zack was getting a ride with us," Angela replied. "How about we say six o'clock and I'll call you back and tell you how many of us there will be?"

"Sounds good. I'll talk to you soon."

After they'd changed out of their running clothes, Booth suggested watching a movie and she agreed immediately. Blockbuster was just across the street, so they walked. The problem was finding a movie that they both wanted to watch. He loved thrillers and movies about sports, and she wanted to get a documentary or a drama.

"Let's get something that's long, like a trilogy," he suggested. "That way we'll have to have something to do all weekend."

"I know this great series about World War II."

"No war movies. How about Superman or Spiderman?" he suggested with relish.

"Booth, movies about superheroes are very unrealistic. The explanation for the origin of their powers is never satisfying."

"How do you know?"

"My brother was really into comic books. He used to tell me all the stories," she admitted.

"And you liked them?"

"Until I was about five. That's when I realized that such things were impossible. You know, Angela told me about some long version of Pride and Prejudice. She said something about candy, but I couldn't figure out how it was connected to the movie."

Booth laughed. "She probably said 'eye candy,' meaning that one of the actors was good looking. I've seen it already, but let's keep it as an option."

They continued to browse. One would propose something and the other would shoot it down. Then he found the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

"Let's get these. I haven't seen them since they were in the theater," he suggested excitedly. "They're based on the…"

"Books by J.R.R. Tolkien," she finished his sentence. "I've read them. Is the movie adaptation any good?"

"Pretty good, considering the difficulty of adapting a book, especially a long one, to a movie format."

She couldn't resist the hopeful expression on his face. "Okay, but next time I get to pick."

"Sweet!" He grabbed the three videos.

Ten minutes later, they were snuggled together on the couch watching the opening scene of the movie. Brennan was so absorbed that she didn't hear her cell phone ringing. He hit pause and grabbed it from her purse.

As soon as he passed it to her, she flipped it open. "Hi, Ange."

"All of us will be here."

"Okay, so Chinese take-out for six?" Brennan suggested.

"How about pizza?"

"But we just ate pizza yesterday."

"Chinese is fine then, sweetie."

"See you later," Brennan said before hanging up.

Both were soon engrossed in the story again, so much so that the message for switching to the second disc took them by surprise.

"How long is this movie?" she asked.

He grabbed the case and looked at it. "Almost three and a half hours. We rented the extended edition. It has additional scenes that weren't in the theatrical release."

Glancing at the clock, he said, "I think we'll have to save the second disc for after dinner. You want to call ahead so our order will be ready when we get there?"

"Go ahead," she answered. "I'm just going to put on something more appropriate for the office."

"Bones, you look fine. It's not like we're going there to work. Besides, it's Friday night. The lab will be deserted.

"This shirt has a stain," she said before heading in the direction of her room.

When she returned, Booth was waiting, keys in hand. The food was ready when they arrived at the Chinese place, so they were in and out in no time. A few minutes later, they were walking through the doors of the Medico-Legal lab.

"Hey, squints," Booth called as they headed to the lounge, "dinner's here."

Angela dropped what she was working on and rushed to greet them. The others trickled in after wrapping up their tasks.

As soon as they were seated, Brennan asked, "What happened around here while we were gone?"

"You mean besides worrying about you two and calling Agent Vatio every hour?" Hodgins said, repeating what he'd told them at the hospital. "Zach went through a record number of bodies from Limbo."

All things considered, conversation flowed pretty well, although a few times someone awkwardly cut sentence short as they realized they were treading close to sensitive subjects.

As dinner wound down, Brennan headed off to the bathroom and Angela pulled Booth aside for a quiet conversation.

"How's she really doing?"

"Pretty well, given the circumstances. Usually she argues with me about almost everything. But since we got out, she's been going along with whatever I suggest. Things aren't exactly easy. She's been very emotional."

Angela nodded thoughtfully. "How are you doing?"

"This isn't the first traumatic event either of us has had to deal with, Ange. We'll make it. Right now, I'm focused on getting us through the first few days. I can't even begin to describe how angry I am with this guy."

She smiled at his protectiveness. At least this time, they had each other to lean on.

To her surprise, Booth asked, "How are you guys doing? It's hard to be the ones waiting and worrying."

"Zach worked long hours. I cried all the time, and Hodgins kept ranting about how some secret government agency had taken you, probably for medical experiments. But now that you're back, the relief is incredible. It was too bad you had to cancel lunch. The food was amazing."

Brennan approached them and Angela turned to her friend. "How about we do a girls' day tomorrow? Shopping, massages, maybe a chick flick."

The anthropologist's gaze darted to Booth, and he could see she was thinking about the morning's mall disaster. "Maybe you could come over and hang out at my place. I'm not sure I want to go out," she finally replied. The idea of being away from Booth was very uncomfortable, but she couldn't turn her friend down.

The artist nodded eagerly. "Okay, sweetie, that works. What time?"

"Around 10AM," Brennan answered.

"Why don't we invite everybody?" suggested Booth, not wanting to be parted from her.

Angela wanted to object to her girl time becoming a group time, but didn't have the heart as Brennan nodded eagerly.

"Okay, but what will we do?" Angela asked skeptically.

"I don't think that will be a problem," Booth stated confidently, thinking of her new entertainment system.

After everyone had been invited, the group dispersed for the evening.

"Booth, if everybody's coming to my place, I think we need to go to the grocery store for a few things," she said as they walked to the parking lot.

He smiled. "I planned on stopping on the way home."

A moment later he realized that he had called Brennan's apartment home, and he held his breath wondering if she would say anything. When she started talking about what they needed to buy at the store, he breathed out silently in relief. Her apartment really was beginning to feel like home to him, mostly because she was there.

She glanced over and noticed his smile. "I can't believe you're this happy about grocery shopping."

"I'm not happy about the shopping. I'm happy because I spent the day with you."

The shopping took longer than either of them wanted, but it couldn't be helped. Everything had spoiled while she had been in that basement. Fortunately the store was almost empty, so they didn't have to wait long at the check out.

After the groceries were all put away, they settled back on the couch to watch the rest of the Fellowship of the Ring.

When it was over, her eyes slowly drifted shut.

"You know, Bones, I'm sure the bed is much more comfortable than the couch," he said gently nudging her shoulder.

She yawned. "Okay."

Struggling to her feet, she swayed and he quickly reached to steady her. Together they headed toward her room.


	11. Detangling

**AN: And here's the next chapter. It didn't even take me very long to post! Imagine that. Thanks to FauxMaven and redrider6612 for their input and editing and to FauxMaven for suggesting the title. The next seven chapters should be coming more regularly. **

Booth woke when one of Brennan's arms flailed against his chest. Noticing that he had moved towards her in his sleep, he scooted further toward his side of the bed. As he shifted onto his side to find a more comfortable position, her arm thrashed again and he barely had time to move his head out of the way of her fist.

He gingerly reached out and shook her shoulder gently. "Bones, Bones. Come on, wake up."

Her eyes opened almost immediately, the remnants of the dream still lingering in her mind. Catching sight of a large dark form looming near her, fear coursed through her and she bolted for the bathroom. After turning on the shower as hot as thought she could handle, she shed her pajamas quickly.

She stepped into the water and let it wash over her. Reaching for her sponge and the soap, she began to scrub her skin vigorously. She knew it wouldn't wash away the violated, dirty feeling that particular dream always left her with, but she had to do something.

Booth listened to the shower run. After their peaceful sleep the night before, he was surprised that she'd had a nightmare.

'You've been through enough of these kinds of things to know better,' he told himself.

He stretched his shoulders and then climbed out of bed to turn on the light. Returning to the warm cocoon of the blankets, he waited for her to return. As her shower stretched into ten minutes and then twenty, he lost the fight against sleep.

The sound of the shower turning off woke him. He glanced at the clock. 3:20 AM. She had been in there for almost an hour. When she emerged, he noticed her skin was an angry red, redder than a hot shower would cause. There was also a skittish look in her eyes.

Slowly, she sat down on the bed. She could see the question in his eyes and debated whether or not to tell him. He was already shouldering so many of her burdens; he didn't need to carry this one, too.

He knew the instant she decided to shut him out.

"You remember that National Guard case we had a few years ago?" he asked.

She looked surprised. She had expected him to ask about the dream.

She nodded slowly. "Charlie Kent."

"You remember meeting Hank?"

"Yes. He's the judge in the wheelchair, right?"

"He told me that I needed to talk to someone about Kosovo," he said, hoping she wouldn't ask for any more details since he really did _not_ want to think about his time as a sniper right now.

"Uh huh," she responded, not sure where he was going with this.

"I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't think anyone should have to carry my burdens and talking about it made me vulnerable, but afterwards I felt as though some of the weight had lifted. How did you feel afterward?"

"I… I was honored that you trusted me enough to share a difficult memory. And a bit sad. Now I understand your need for redemption better."

"But not burdened."

"No."

"This is one of those times, Temperance." He watched as she mentally sorted through what he said.

Knowing she might need some time, he asked, "You want some hot chocolate or warm milk or something?"

"Hot chocolate sounds nice. I can't ever go back to sleep after that nightmare. I like mine with…"

"Double powder." He completed her sentence with a smile.

A few minutes later he returned with two mugs and a couple of coasters.

She blew on her chocolate before carefully testing its temperature. It wasn't too hot, so she took a bigger sip. The warmth spread all the way to her stomach and somehow it made her feel just a little better.

"Maybe you're right," she admitted.

He smiled at her, not his charm smile, but one that was somehow soft and understanding.

"I haven't had that dream in years," she said, working hard to keep her voice steady, "but I used to have it all the time. As if it wasn't enough that he took what he wanted from me, my own mind forced me to relive it every night for months afterward."

Booth put two and two together and realized that she was talking about her time with that second foster family. He nodded and she went on.

"I eventually got used to that one, but… this time the voice was our captor's." She shuddered.

Unable to maintain the distance between them, he put his mug on the side table and pulled her into his arms.

"The dream always leaves me feeling dirty and violated. Scrubbing helps some. The redness will fade in a few hours."

"What that kid did to you and what _he _did to us is a violation of the worst kind. I probably don't feel exactly the same as you do, but I feel violated and angry and afraid of what this will do to us, our friends and family. I feel like I should have been able to stop it or at least find you sooner."

She squeezed his hand gently. "You can't protect me from everything; there was no evidence you could have used to find me." As she looked up into his face, she could see he was still struggling. "Don't blame yourself, Booth. I don't."

"I just… I just can't help but feel if I'd been more vigilant, or if I was just a bit smarter I would have found you or not gotten kidnapped too," he said, his voice cracking.

"I wouldn't have wanted anyone with me besides you." A moment later she realized what she'd said and backpedaled desperately. "Wait… I didn't mean that I wanted you to be kidnapped…"

His laughter interrupted her. "I understand what you meant, Bones," he wheezed. When he had himself under control, he said, "I'm sorry. It wasn't that funny. I don't know what came over me."

"Stress, nerves or tiredness can cause long bouts of inappropriate laughter."

He couldn't resist an eye-roll.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "Since we're not going to sleep, how about we watch the next part of the Lord of the Rings?"

"We have guests coming later today. I should probably do something about all the dust…"

"I can help if you want. My mom always said 'Many hands make light work.' This way the house will get clean and we'll still have time to watch the movie."

An hour later, he wondered exactly had possessed him to volunteer. She didn't think the vacuum cleaner or washer would bother her sleeping neighbors, and for some reason the inside of the oven just had to be cleaned.

"I don't think the squint squad is going to care if your oven's clean, Bones."

"Probably not, but it needs to be done and I've got the time right now," she answered, attacking it with a vengeance.

After that, he gave up and went to the living room to watch TV until she was done. Unfortunately, her cleaning distracted him from enjoying the Saturday morning cartoons. She washed the windows and all the moldings, removed all the cobwebs, and took down the curtains. He presumed she was running them through the dryer on fluff to get out the dust.

'Spring cleaning has come a few months early,' Booth thought sourly.

However, when she pulled out the carpet washer, he moved toward her and gently pried the appliance from her hand.

"The house is plenty clean now, Bones," he said. "I don't think you want the carpets to be wet when they get here."

Her eyes went wide. "I had forgotten they were coming."

"It's okay. When my mom does her spring cleaning, she gets into the groove and heaven help anyone who interrupts her. Why don't you put that away and come sit with me for a little while?"

When she didn't argue, the worry that had been niggling at the back of his mind flared to life again. She returned to the living room to find him sitting comfortably on the couch. She plopped down next to him, tucked her feet underneath her and leaned into him. He laid his arm across her shoulders.

To her surprise, he didn't turn on the TV. Instead he held one of her hands, gently rubbing circles on her palm, and they sat in silence for a while. The motion of his thumb was soothing and it slowly lulled her back to sleep. After ten minutes, he shifted them to his side with an arm curled around her and then he allowed himself to drift to sleep too.

An hour and a half later, a loud knock on the door woke them. Brennan sat up abruptly and glanced at the clock. "Oh, no. It's ten and they're here."

"Just answer the door, Bones."

"I can't answer the door in my pajamas," she hissed.

"So pull your trench coat on. It's not like I can open the door like this," he said, gesturing at his boxers.

She rolled her eyes at him, but moved toward the door while he headed toward the bedroom. Grabbing his shaving kit, he rushed into the bathroom to take a quick shower while she greeted their guests.

After she'd belted the coat around her waist, Brennan opened the door and was surprised to see only Angela on the other side.

"You look terrible, sweetie. Your hair's all clumped together right there. Did we wake you up?"

The anthropologist ran a hand through her hair self-consciously, trying to get rid of the clump. "Good morning to you, too. Where's are the others?"

Dropping her purse on the narrow table in the hall, the artist kicked off her shoes and stepped into the main room. Immediately, she noticed the rearranged furniture and the entertainment center. She gasped.

"When did you get that?" she asked in awe.

"Thursday."

Angela turned and headed back to the door. She called down the hall, "Guys, you can just take that back to the car."

"Oh, no," Hodgins said. "We just hauled the TV all the way up here. We are _not _taking it back down now."

A moment later, he and Zach came into view awkwardly carrying a large television between them.

"You can just put it in that corner for now," the artist instructed them.

"We might as well just put it where we're going to need it," Zach objected.

Brennan grinned and pointed toward the corner. They almost dropped the TV in surprise. Then they turned accusing looks on Angela.

She held up her hands in innocence. "I didn't know. I swear."

Once the TV was carefully placed in the corner, they moved to the comfortable chairs in the living area. Jack eyed her setup, mentally calculating the cost and effort.

Booth emerged from the bedroom. "Hi, everybody."

Wow, he looks good,' Brennan thought. His jeans and black T-shirt fit him to perfection. Their eyes caught and held for a moment, and he grinned broadly at the thinly-veiled desire in her gaze.

Stopping beside him on her way to the bedroom, she stretched up and whispered, "Offer them something to drink while I get cleaned up."

Then she was gone and he turned to find their guests giving him broad, knowing smiles.

Angela fanned herself. "That was so hot."

"Ange…" he responded with a warning in his tone.

"What?" she replied with mock innocence. "If you two are going to mentally undress each other in front of others, you'd better get used to the comments."

She laughed as he shifted from one foot to the other in discomfort. Deciding the only way to deal with her was to ignore her, Booth asked, "Can I get you guys something to drink? We have water, milk, orange juice, raspberry lemonade, tea, and hot chocolate or cider. There's also coffee, but it won't be ready for about 15 minutes. We also have alcoholic beverages."

"What'd you do, Booth? Buy the entire grocery store last night?" Hodgins teased.

"Nope. But it sure felt like it when we were hauling the groceries in. Angela, what can I get you?"

After getting everyone's drink preferences, Booth headed toward the kitchen.

Another knock on the door announced Cam's arrival as he was handing the Angela and Zach their drinks.

Booth opened the door, helped her out of her coat, and hung it on the rack.

"I hope we're going to do something fun," Cam said. "This was an extremely long week."

"Check it out," he said pointing at the TV as they entered the living room.

"Whoa! When did she get this? The last I heard you were picking on her because she didn't have a TV."

"She bought it Thursday," Angela chimed in.

"And is that a Nintendo Wii?" Cam asked, noticing what the others had missed.

"That's Booth's, not mine," Brennan said from the kitchen. "Cam, can I get you something to drink?" She began to list the choices, but stopped when she realized that everyone was talking about the Wii and what games Booth had bought.

She retreated with a glass of milk to the bedroom to finish drying her hair, missing Zach's comment that there weren't enough controllers.

As Booth and Angela explained the extra TV to Cam, Zach and Jack had a conversation that ended with the entomologist pulling out his phone and making a short phone call.

By the time Cam and Angela had finished boosting the agent's ego by expressing their opinion of Brennan's entertainment center, the two male scientists were debating who had earned the title king of the lab that week.

Brennan rejoined them, offering mugs of coffee to Cam and Jack.

"We have pastries, if you're hungry," she said, gesturing to a large platter on the counter next to small stacks of plates and napkins.

Everyone helped themselves and retreated to the living room. The two couples squeezed on the couch, leaving the chairs for Cam and Zach.

"So what does everyone want to do?" Booth asked with a smile, anticipating the disagreement that was bound to happen.

His squints didn't disappoint. Angela voted for a movie and then started to list the ones she'd brought with her. Cam argued for a video game. No one was surprised when Brennan suggested playing Scrabble, but the idea was immediately vetoed. It didn't take the agent long to notice Zach and Jack's matching smug expressions and lack of participation in the conversation.

He frowned, wondering what was up with them. Usually when they were this united it meant they were going to do an experiment of some kind. Jack suddenly suggested watching a documentary on cable. Everyone except Brennan and Zach groaned and Booth quickly pointed out that she didn't have cable yet.

"I think I have a couple on DVD somewhere," Brennan offered, trying to be helpful.

Ignoring her, Angela and Cam resumed their movie vs. video game discussion. After a quick glance at Zach, Jack joined Angela's side noting that everyone would enjoy a movie. A moment later, Zach was arguing for video games, saying that no one would mind taking turns.

As the argument stretched on and people began changing sides, Booth sighed and put his head in his hands. 'I must have been crazy to think I would enjoy this.'

Half an hour later, the doorbell interrupted what had become a heated disagreement. Brennan started to rise, but Booth stood up quickly. They weren't expecting anyone else.

'She'd probably kill me if she realized I was doing this to be protective, instead of just nice,' he thought as he looked through the peephole in the door at someone he didn't recognize. Wishing he was wearing his holster, he opened the door cautiously.

"Delivery for Master Hodgins," the older man said in a very British accent.

"Hodgins, there's someone here for you," Booth called.

"Sweet!" A moment later Jack had taken the large bag. "Thanks, James."

"Don't you think that having a British butler named James is just a bit cliché?" Booth asked as he closed the door.

"Quite possibly. But he's worked for my family since before I was born. I can't dismiss him simply because it's cliché."

Returning to the other room, Jack held up the bag. "Now we're ready to begin."

He started pulling out accessories for the Wii. There were extra controllers, additional nunchucks, lots of batteries and several games.

Since the question of game vs. movie had been solved, the debate turned to which game to try first. Eventually they selected one, moved the couch and coffee table out of the way, and the gaming began. It continued through pizza and late into the afternoon.

Brennan and Booth could tell that the others were enjoying themselves immensely, but sometimes she caught her partner's eye and she knew he was thinking about their time in the basement. The voice in one of the games was similar to their captor's and Brennan opted to clean up the lunch mess while that game was on. Booth noticed her absence but decided not to draw attention to it by searching for her.

Brennan flopped onto the couch in exhaustion after everyone's departure.

"They can be a boisterous bunch, huh, Bones?"

"No kidding! I can't believe how intense you and Hodgins were about that car race."

He looked around. "At least everyone helped clean up before they left."

"Yeah. It'll be a long while before I do that again. It's too much craziness all at once."

He nodded. "But I think it served its purpose. They were a little nervous when they arrived, but relaxed pretty quickly."

They sat in silence for a few moments before she brought up something that had been sitting in the back of her mind.

"You're spending tomorrow with Parker."

He nodded happily. "Yep. And Rebecca recently decided to let me take him to Mass every week now that he's old enough to get himself ready."

Brennan's "oh" in response was non-committal.

"You're welcome to come with us," he offered, correctly reading her desire not to be left alone with her thoughts.

"I wouldn't want to intrude on your time with your son, Booth. And you always tell me I'm not allowed to even talk about church, let alone attend."

"Hey, as long as you don't insult God in His house, I doubt he'll mind if you tag along and Parker won't mind either. I told him a few weeks back we were dating and he wanted to know if that meant you'd be hanging out with us more."

"I'll think about it."

"Let's watch the next of the Lord of the Rings movies."

Exhausted after the long, eventful day, they decided to head straight to bed when the movie was done, even though it was only 9:30 PM.

As they settled into bed, Booth enjoyed the fact that he was finally with the woman he had dreamt about for so long. Meanwhile Brennan shifted between worrying about having another nightmare and wondering why this all seemed so easy for him. He flipped the lamp off and moved toward his partner and girlfriend. Kissing her sweetly, he said a soft goodnight and fell asleep with an arm around her waist.

Four hours later he woke when she muttered, "No, please."

He sighed. She was having another nightmare. He reached out and shook her gently, calling her name softly. This time she didn't bolt out of the bed. Instead she snuggled as far into him she could. His arms wrapped around her automatically and he whispered that she was safe with him.

A minute later, she murmured. "It's unfair. I don't know how you're managing to deal with this so well."

"Honestly, I think you're just waking me up before my own nightmares start. I… I hope you never have to experience one of them. They're not pretty."

"Can't be worse than mine."

"Maybe not. After all, I've only seen the beginning of yours."

She tucked her head back into his chest, shifting to get more comfortable, relaxing into the comfort he offered. It wasn't long before the hard planes of his body pressed against her soft curves turned her mind to a more pleasurable activity. Her breath caught as a tendril of desire curled low in her belly. His arms tightened and she knew he'd noticed.

"Help me forget, Seeley." Her lips sought his in the darkness and she kissed him.

He pulled back too soon. "I… this isn't how I wanted things to go, you know. I wanted to take you out for a nice dinner at a romantic restaurant, take a long walk under the stars and confess my undying love before whisking you away to a nice hotel room with a bed covered in red rose petals."

She smiled. Although she loved a good meal, those gestures didn't mean a lot to her; she was too practical for that, but she knew that many women wanted them, and she appreciated that her man wanted to please her.

"We can still do those things, but right now, I just want to forget everything and be with you."

"What about the doctor's recommendation?"

"If you keep bringing that up, I'm going to think you don't like me," she teased. "He said a couple of days, and it's been almost three."

Deciding that she'd been patient long enough, she kissed him again and ran her fingernails lightly up and down his back. He caressed the satiny skin of her back and soon the word and all of its problems faded in the face of their need for one another.

"I'm going to make this a night you won't ever forget," he whispered. As his fingers danced across her body, she automatically blocked out everything except the fire that trailed in the wake of his touch. A moment later she realized what she was doing.

"Wait."

He stopped immediately and pulled away from her.

"I'll be back in a minute."

This time didn't have to be like those other times. In fact, it shouldn't be like them.

She plucked a CD from her rack, grabbed a lighter and something else from a shelf, and then collected every candle she had. Returning to her bedroom, she set the candles around, lighting them one by one. When she was done, she dimmed the lights. She placed the CD in a player, and soft jazz filled the room.

Climbing onto the bed, she offered him a square of dark chocolate. He looked at her quizzically.

"It's chocolate. You're supposed to eat it." She popped a square into her mouth and allowed it to melt on her tongue, savoring the tinge of bitter amidst the sweetness.

"Now I'm ready."

"Bones? What's with the candles, chocolate, and music?"

"When we were in the basement and we… you know, I closed off all my senses, trying to forget about the cameras and the situation. When we started just now, I started to do that. But there's no reason to do that now. I want this to be different." She shrugged. "Chocolate for taste, music for hearing, candles for smell and different lighting."

"Between the two of us, we'll make this a night neither of us forgets," he said with a tender smile. Then he led them in the intimate, complex dance of love, one that flooded all their senses. Released from all constraints, they gave to each other freely and together became something greater than the sum of two parts.


	12. Puppeteer

**AN: Thanks as always to redrider6612 and FauxMaven. Any remaining faults are my own.**

Booth knocked on Rebecca's door at 9:15 the next morning. He smiled nervously at Brennan, and she squeezed his hand to tell him that everything would be okay.

The door opened and Rebecca gestured them inside with a smile. "Parker's just finishing breakfast. He'll be done in a minute."

The couple took seats on her couch. Brennan looked around the room curiously. She didn't know the other woman well and had never been in her home before. The furniture looked sturdy and the room lacked anything breakable, very appropriate for a rambunctious young boy. The room was decorated in warm, inviting colors and she felt herself relax. Her perusal of the bookshelf was interrupted by the Parker's entrance.

The seven year old was clearly unhappy. He stood in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest, a stubborn expression on his face.

Booth sighed. "Hi, Parker. I guess you're still mad at me, huh?"

Parker jutted out his chin and nodded emphatically.

"It's okay to be upset when someone disappoints you or breaks a promise." Even though the stubborn look remained, Booth was pleased that he was listening.

"You know it's bad to lie, right?" he asked.

At Parker's nod, he continued, "Well, bub, Daddy's boss did something bad. He told your mommy a lie. I didn't have to work last weekend."

The boy's eyes went wide. "What happened, Daddy?"

"A bad guy kidnapped us for a while," Brennan said. "Your dad wanted to be here, but the bad guy locked us up in a basement and we couldn't get out."

Booth finished up the simplified version of the story. "It took the FBI a few days to catch him and find us."

Parker looked upset. "Are you okay?"

They shared a glance, thinking about just how "not okay" things were, but they were okay in all the ways that mattered to a seven year old, so Booth answered, "Yeah, we're okay."

A moment later, Parker ran across the room and flung himself onto the couch, giving his father a big hug. Brennan saw the tension leave him and gave a sigh of relief.

"I missed you, Daddy."

"Me too, bub. More than you'll ever know. Now, are you ready to go to church?"

"I gotta put on my shoes."

"Okay, we'll wait here while you put on your shoes."

Brennan looked up and noticed Rebecca standing in the doorway. She had been so focused on the interaction between father and son that she hadn't noticed the other woman's presence.

Booth spoke softly. "We'd appreciate it if you'd keep quiet about what happened to us. Bones is a well-known author and I'm hoping to keep this under wraps."

As she nodded, Parker ran back into the room.

"I'm ready!"

They stood and headed for the door.

"Thanks for letting me have time with him today, Becca," Booth said quietly.

During the drive to church, Parker chattered about his week, mentioning a number of names that she didn't recognize.

Too soon, the drive was over and they were sitting on the hard benches. She listened, but although she understood the words, she was clearly missing the significance of some of it. She didn't know when to sit or stand. Eventually she felt restless, but she suppressed the urge to fidget. She didn't want to be a bad example for Parker.

She heaved a quiet sigh of relief when the service was done and it was time to leave. Everyone waited patiently to say good-bye to the priest at the door.

When it was their turn, Father Sanders smiled at her. "Any friend of Booth's is always welcome here."

She wondered what he'd think if he knew she'd called Jesus a zombie and God an 'imaginary friend.' Plus she was more than Booth's friend, in a way she was certain the priest wouldn't approve of.

Not wanting to embarrass Booth, she suppressed a snort and smiled politely. "Thank you."

After lunch the three headed to a nearby park. She watched father and son as they roughhoused and generally had fun.

After a while, Parker begged, "Come swing with me. Daddy gives the best pushes."

Unable to resist, she accompanied him to the swings. Soon all three were swinging. Although she hadn't been on a swing in years and had preferred other activities to swinging as a child, there was something special about being with her partner and his son.

Since she enjoyed the swinging more than she expected, she readily agreed to a game of tag. Parker was 'it' and he chased the adults for a couple of minutes before Brennan slowed down just enough to be tagged. Then she headed for Booth at a dead run. He saw her coming and ran away, but she was in excellent condition and eventually tagged him. The games lasted for a few minutes more as Booth let his son escape a few times.

After he tagged Parker, the boy declared he was too tired to run anymore. With a wicked gleam in his eye, he yelled, 'Pig pile on Tempe!"

Soon the two were jumping on her and knocking her over, although she noticed Booth cushioned her fall and was careful not to put all of his weight on her. Parker jumped in with the enthusiasm of a child and elbowed her in the ribs accidentally. A moment later he was tickling her, making it nearly impossible for her to catch her breath.

"Parker, stop. She can't breathe," Booth commanded, and the boy stopped immediately.

"Are you okay, Bones?"

After a deep breath, she answered, "I will be in a minute."

The games exhausted everyone so they decided to take one last stroll around the park and then head to Booth's place.

Several hours later, Brennan watched as Parker ran up the driveway to his house.

"He's a great kid, Booth."

Her partner smiled sadly. "I hate this part, dropping him back at his mom's."

She reached across the car and placed her hand on top of his. "You two are making the best of a tough situation because you both want what's best for your son."

She waited a moment for him to absorb her words and then said, "So, are you ready for the rest of the Lord of the Rings?"

As the credits rolled several hours later, she began to analyze the movie, but Booth shushed her. "You can tell me what you think tomorrow. Right now I just want to hold you and enjoy the moment."

She snuggled further into him and let his heat and love warm her. He rested his head on her shoulder and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

A few hours later, his muttering woke her. She realized they'd fallen asleep on her couch. He kept repeating the word "No" and a tear slowly made its way down his cheek.

"Booth, wake up." He slept on, so she shook his shoulder. "Come on. Wake up, Seeley. It's just a dream."

His eyes fluttered open slowly. They focused on her with surprising speed and then he crushed her to his chest in a tight hug. He inhaled deeply several times, trying to master his fear, and he rubbed his hand slowly up and down her back, reassuring himself that she was indeed alive and well.

Pulling back to look at him, she was surprised when another tear slipped down his cheek.

"Seeley?" she asked softly, brushing his tear away with her thumb.

"I… I dreamed that I arrived too late to save you," he answered in a shaky voice.

"I'm here and I'm okay."

"I know." He drew another deep breath, struggling to overcome the sheer terror of the dream.

Her hand cupped his face and she looked straight into his beautiful eyes. "It's okay to cry. You don't have to be strong for me. I've lost track of the number of times I've cried in the past few days. Crying is an excellent cathartic release." When he didn't reply, she continued, "It's an entirely appropriate response given the stress of the last few weeks. It's not healthy to bury your emotions; you need to let them out too."

He barked a laugh. Since when did she offer him advice on dealing with emotions? He knew she was trying, but only she would use words like "cathartic release" to tell him it was okay to cry.

Shifting her off him, he stood. "I need to use the bathroom."

She frowned at his retreating back. She sat back, awaiting his return. When he hadn't returned ten minutes later, she got up and knocked on the bathroom door. Receiving no reply, she opened the door to see him sitting on top of the closed toilet with his head buried in his hands, tears silently streaming down his face.

She knelt in front of him and gently removed his hands from his face. "Don't feel like you have to be strong for me. Crying is a normal emotional release. You didn't think I was weak those times I sobbed in your arms, did you?"

She tugged him up and led him toward her bed. Mechanically, he undressed and slid into bed. She slipped into her pajamas and settled beside him, wrapping her arms around him. One of his arms settled around her waist.

"I feel guilty, you know," she said. "I should have been able to fight the kidnapper off. I know three kinds of martial arts and he still got the better of me. With my IQ, I should have been able to figure out some way to escape. But I didn't, and as a result, you got dragged into it and two weeks of my life was stolen."

He started to speak, but she put a finger to his lips.

"You feel guilty because you couldn't find me, and then you couldn't change the situation and find a way protect me."

"I… it's my job to protect you, Temperance."

"You can't protect me from everything."

"I feel like I should be able to," he muttered.

"We can't change the past, only live in the moment and move forward into the future. Getting mired in regrets is useless. I've spent years refusing to let the past tarnish the future. I'm not going to start now." Sincerity shone in each sentence she spoke.

He looked at her in amazement. He had always known she was a strong woman, but hearing her express it so clearly took his breath away.

He kissed her deeply. "You are an amazing woman, Temperance Brennan. You're right, we can only go forward, and right now I think that means getting some sleep."

She searched his gaze deeply and decided that he really had heard what she'd said and wasn't just avoiding things. She kissed his lips softly. "Good night, Seeley."

The loud bleeping of the alarm clock woke them hours later. The couple went about their morning routines, still getting used to each other.

Booth insisted on making breakfast. The omelets were excellent and she savored every bite.

"You know, I could get used to having breakfast with you if everything else you cook is this good."

"You'll just have to wait and see." He winked at her.

His phone beeped and he flipped it open and read the text message. "Are you busy this morning? Cullen wants to meet with us as soon as possible."

"I don't think I've got anything urgent."

"Well, I should get a start on these dishes if we're going to be on time."

Brennan cleared her place and headed back to her room to finish getting ready. She had been looking forward to going back to work, but now she felt a little uncertain. She'd had a wonderful time the past few days hanging out with Booth, and people surely had heard that she and Booth had been missing. Work had always been her sanctuary, but she wasn't sure she wanted to deal with the inevitable stares, unspoken questions, and obvious speculation.

Pulling on her shoes, she straightened up. 'I'm a strong person and I won't let the opinions of others stop me,' she thought. She never had before and she wasn't about to start now. She refused to hide from something or someone because things were a little difficult. Holding her head high, she exited the room.

When they walked through the main doors into the Hoover Building, the security guard smiled. "You're back. It's good to see you," he said as he checked their IDs perfunctorily.

Since it was still fifteen minutes before the workday officially began, there weren't many people around. They were both grateful when they arrived at Cullen's office a few minutes early without encountering anyone. Grabbing a magazine in the reception area, she sat back to wait.

She flipped through the magazine. "Do people really read this… trash? Who cares if some celebrity has a new boyfriend? The dieting tips are worthless and a woman who would do that to herself to get a man must be crazy!"

"What are you reading?"

She lifted the magazine so he could see the cover.

He laughed. "Bones, you can buy Cosmopolitan at every grocery store, bookstore and newsstand in the country. It's very popular."

Cullen opened the door to his office. "I'm ready for you."

Brennan dumped the magazine back on the table and followed Booth into the office, sitting in the empty chair.

The deputy director looked them over carefully. "You look like you had a relaxing few days."

Booth nodded. "We watched movies and hung out with the squints and Parker. It was good."

"How are you really doing?" he asked.

"About as well as could be expected, given the circumstances," Brennan said curtly.

He eyed her, then smiled sympathetically. "You might want to get used to the question; you'll probably get it a lot today."

He paused and took a deep breath. "We'll start with the easiest first. Booth, you have a three o'clock appointment with Dr. Wyatt. We tentatively scheduled one for Dr. Brennan at four. I'd appreciate it you'd call his office and let him know whether or not you can make it."

"We don't have to meet with Sweets?" Booth asked, pleasantly surprised.

"Not at the moment," Cullen answered. "If Dr. Wyatt recommends additional partners counseling, then maybe." The partners exchanged a meaningful look.

"Moving on… although we don't normally consult… the victims… on how we investigate a case, given the sensitive nature of the evidence, I decided to consult you before turning it over for examination."

"Sir?"

"The forensics team is currently processing the evidence from the basement, but there's hours, maybe days, of recordings of you two. We sat on it for a few days, but somebody has to go through it. I thought you might have a preference as to who…"

"I'd prefer as few people as possible saw it," Booth answered quickly. He hated the idea of other people seeing those videos of him and Bones, especially another man. She'd probably kick his butt from here to Alaska if she knew he felt that possessively about her, but... "How about Julia Baker?"

Brennan frowned. The female agent seemed nice, but she'd been a bit too impressed by Booth's dancing skills. She mentally ran through the short list of people working the case, decided that Julia was the best choice, and nodded reluctantly.

Cullen made a note to get Baker released from the rest of her workload for a few days. "Okay. Have you two thought about how you're going to handle the press when this makes the news?"

The partners looked at each other in horror and he suppressed a laugh. "I guess that's a 'no.'"

"You really think it's just a matter of time?" Brennan asked in a small voice.

"Unfortunately, yes. I've already made it clear if there's a leak here, someone will be facing severe penalties, but there were millions of hits on that site and hundreds of thousands of unique users. I can't do anything about them, so you'd better start doing some preparation. The FBI, of course, will be unavailable for comment, but reporters can be relentless."

Brennan slumped, losing a bit of her resolve. The day was not starting out well. Maybe she should have stayed in bed.

The deputy director handed them each a file. "I need you to review these transcripts of your interviews and make any changes you feel are appropriate. Return them to Baker and Vatio. They'll make the revisions and then get the final version back to you to sign."

He felt bad that he couldn't do much to help the pair. Neither deserved this, and they were going to have to relive those events at least one more time while they reviewed the files. He offered them the only consolation he could.

"Agent Vatio spent the weekend interviewing Circuit City's employees and found another person involved in this whole mess. His lawyer recommended that he plea-bargain. I believe the interrogation is going to begin shortly in Room Five. I thought maybe you'd want to watch, but under no circumstances are you to interact with the suspect."

They looked at him in surprise and then glanced at each other.

"Thank you, sir. Is that all?"

"We're done for now."

He smiled at their enthusiasm as they left.

During the meeting most of the FBI employees had arrived for work and the pair drew their attention. The observation ranged from the subtle, a glance out of the corner of the eyes, to outright stares of curiosity. Booth edged closer to Brennan. He resisted the urge to put his arm around her waist, settling for his usual hand at the small of her back. Knowing that the best thing was not to react, they both acted as normally as possible.

Relief coursed through both of them when the door to the viewing area of the interrogation room closed behind them. Special Agent Julia Baker nodded in their direction and kept her attention on the good-looking young man sitting at the table on the other side of the one-way glass.

Brennan automatically cataloged his features. His face was somewhat symmetrical. Light brown hair and brown eyes sat atop a square jaw. He had broad shoulders and she suspected he was probably tall. He shifted nervously in his chair, glanced at his lawyer and then the door. James Vatio entered the room and sat down with his back to the glass.

"Your lawyer says you've accepted our deal, Sean," Vatio said.

He nodded reluctantly after looking to his lawyer one more time.

"Why don't you begin by telling me about your relationship with Powell Fitzhugh," the agent suggested.

Sean took a deep breath. "I met him for the first time when I applied for the job at Circuit City."

"When was that?"

"I was seventeen, so four years ago. He hired me and I worked after school and on the weekends."

"You were in high school then?" Vatio asked.

"Yes."

"You decided you needed a job because..."

"My mom and I were having a bad year. She didn't get a raise that year and our rent went up two hundred dollars a month. Anyway, Mr. Fitzhugh gave me the job. He was really nice to me. He made sure someone showed me the ropes. He rarely got mad when something wasn't done right, and he gave me extra hours during the summers. He always asked me how things were going and he really listened to me, you know? My senior year, he came to some of my basketball games."

The agent offered Sean a glass of water when he paused. The young man gulped it down.

"Did your boss ever do anything that made you uncomfortable?"

"Sometimes he made inappropriate comments about women," Sean answered after a moment's thought. "But I never thought much about it until the evening he called me into his office and asked me if I wanted to make a little extra money. I was a sophomore in college and my scholarship didn't cover all the expenses, so I said yes. I thought he was going to give me more hours or a raise. Instead, he took me to the basement, opened the door, and said 'Do what comes naturally.' There was a beautiful woman lying naked on a bed and you can guess the rest. I didn't notice the camera until afterward."

He hung his head in embarrassment. "I needed the money for college, so I kept taking the extra work, and it felt… good. At first it was a couple of times a month and then once a week. One Friday, he told me he wanted to change things around and would I mind being locked in for the weekend. My last payment for the semester was due the next week and I needed the money to cover what I didn't have, so I did it. As things progressed, he showed me the website and he started giving me a cut of the profits when I continued to help him out. We added the furniture at night after everyone had gone home. Sometimes he hired two people for the room and then he needed me to do errands like getting food." Sean cleared his throat. "Could I get some more water?"

Julia grabbed a bottle of water from the small refrigerator and took it to Vatio.

Vatio poured the water into the glass and waited while the younger man took a drink.

"Two months ago, something went wrong. Powell was upset because the site wasn't making as much money and he was having a harder time finding people to hire. I guess word must have gotten out. Anyhow, three weeks ago he told me he'd figured out a solution. I… I didn't know it involved kidnapping anyone until about a minute before we did it. He handed me the rag and said, 'We're taking those two women walking down the alley. Put this over the left one's nose.' Then he pushed me out the door and…"

After a long uncomfortable pause, he continued, "I didn't have any time to think about it. Maybe otherwise I would have said no. But once we had them, I was in too far to back out. The one on the left was smart though, she almost got away."

"I… that idiot! He could have prevented it or at least called in an anonymous tip!" Booth exclaimed in anger.

Baker transferred her attention from the interrogation to the drama occurring between the two partners.

Booth curled his hand into a fist and told himself that punching the wall would only hurt himself. Meanwhile, Brennan was reliving the terrifying feeling of Sean's arm around her neck and the cloth pressed against her face. She took deep breaths, trying to steady her emotions. Booth immediately turned to her. In a single glance he assessed her emotional state and then pushed aside his anger. He pulled her into his arms and whispered words of reassurance. "It's over, Temperance, and we're safe now. I'm here." She turned her head into his shoulder and struggled hard to control the shakes and the sobs threatening to overcome her.

Vatio continued the interrogation. "Were any of the other people kidnapped?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Sean answered.

"That's all for now then. I'll contact you if I have any more questions."

The agent escorted the unfortunate young man and his lawyer to the elevator, then returned to the viewing area.

"That poor kid," he commented to Baker. "He was pretty much a pawn in this whole thing, but he'll probably end up in jail for a couple of years."

By this time Brennan had her emotions back under control, but she still lashed out at him. "You wouldn't say that if you were the one who had his arm around your neck," she spat venomously before stalking out of the room. Booth glared hard at Vatio before following his partner.

He could tell by the set of her shoulders that she wanted to leave. "Bones, wait up. Why don't I take you to the lab?"

She waited impatiently for the elevator, acknowledging his suggestion with a sharp nod. When they reached the safety of his SUV, she finally stopped wearing her impassive mask.

"I hate this, Booth. I feel like I have no control over my emotions and every time we pass a man I wonder if he's seen the videos."

"I know. I almost lost it in there. I wanted to smash that kid's head into the wall."

Taking a deep breath, he reminded her of the words she'd spoken in the night. "We can't change what happened, we just have to keep forging ahead, right?"

He could see her determination return. "Right. I think I'm ready to go to the lab now."

He turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot.


	13. Making Do

**AN: Here's the next part. Only 4 more chapters and an epilogue (more angst and a small twist) to go. Thanks for all the reviews and to redrider6612 and FauxMaven for their fabulous editing.**

She wanted Booth to drop her off at the Jeffersonian, but he insisted on escorting her to her office. At first she was annoyed, but after his pointed looks drove away a few of the curious, she was grateful.

In her office at last, Brennan closed the blinds immediately and then closed the door. At his odd expression, she explained. "I've always felt like I belonged here, like this was my home. But now I feel like a specimen in an experiment."

"Bones, I'm sure no one in the Medico-Legal lab will bother you."

"Why? Because you'd shoot them if they did?" Her lips quirked.

"Yep. And because I'm sure Cam has already warned everybody off."

The certainty in his words melted her apprehension, and she gave him a grateful hug. She would have pulled back, but his arms tightened around her. He dipped his head and gave her a long kiss. The desire was there, but mostly she drew comfort and strength from him.

"So, I'll pick you up for lunch around 12?"

She shook her head. "I can't even imagine how far behind I am. I'll just grab something from the cafeteria."

He dropped a quick kiss on her lips and then released her from his embrace. "I'll bring lunch," he offered. Actually, it was probably better that way anyways. If they didn't go out, there was less chance of them being recognized.

"Okay. I'll see you later then."

After he left, she moved to her computer and turned it on. She sighed. It was going to take hours to deal with all the messages in her inbox. She began by looking over the Jeffersonian's announcements; the majority of them were useless and they'd be easy to clear.

A knock on the door distracted her from her task. "Come in."

"Hi, Dr. Brennan," Cam said. "Welcome back. I'm sorry to jump into business right away, but… Since the field work you do is for the FBI, Dr. Goodman decided the FBI psychologist's evaluation would be sufficient to meet the Jeffersonian's policy requirements."

"I have an appointment with Dr. Wyatt this afternoon. I'll call and confirm it."

Her boss gave her one last searching look before leaving her to her e-mail.

After a quick call to confirm the counseling session, she finished off the Jeffersonian's communications, and then buckled down to the real work, delving into the e-mails from colleagues all over the world. Next, she read the messages from her publisher and publicist.

Just as she was about to start on the messages from her team, she heard Booth's footsteps outside her door.

"I brought lunch, Bones," he said cheerfully.

"I haven't even gotten through my e-mails. I had over three hundred. I don't have time for lunch."

"You have to eat and cafeteria food is almost as bad as hospital food."

"Booth, the Jeffersonian has a professional catering company to…"

"Yada, yada, yada… Cafeteria food is still cafeteria food. I brought Thai."

"Alright, but I need to get back to work as soon as we're done eating."

His charm smile came out in full force. "Good enough. I'm starving. Let's eat."

Brennan moved to the couch while he took the boxes out of the bag and arranged them on the coffee table. Fifteen minutes later the food was gone, and she leaned back with a satisfied sigh.

"I'm glad you came. This was definitely better than cafeteria food."

"You're welcome, Bones." He smiled at her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

When he'd dropped her off, he had simply wanted to spend lunch with her, but about half an hour ago he'd suddenly felt the need to see her, to make sure she was okay, to reassure himself that she hadn't gone missing again.

After silently enjoying the other's company for a few minutes, she stirred. "This is nice, but I should get back to work."

He nodded. After he gathered the empty containers and dumped them in the trashcan, he hugged and kissed her good-bye.

She returned to her desk and was soon sorting out the e-mails from her team, downloading the attachments, reviewing test results. She signed off on some and made a list of the ones she needed to do something more about.

Angela knocked on the doorframe. "Hi, sweetie."

"Hi, Ange."

Angela sat down on the couch. "I was going to come see you earlier, but Cam said we should give you some space. You were in late this morning."

"Booth and I had an eight o'clock meeting with Cullen and then we went to watch an interrogation. "

Angela sighed. "I was hoping it was for more interesting reasons. Hey, we should go on a double date, you and Booth, Jack and me. Then I won't have to drag the details out of you."

"I'll have to check with him. Right now, I really need to get back to work. I still have a lot of e-mails to get through and I have an appointment at four. Can you tell Zack I should have time to look at his limbo case around 5:15?"

"Sure. It's good to have you back at work. The lab was too quiet without you." She smiled, gave her friend a hug, and then left.

When the computer dinged a couple of hours later to remind her about her counseling session, she had almost emptied her mailbox. After finishing her current task, she grabbed her coat and purse and hurried to her car.

Ten minutes later she was in the waiting room of Dr. Wyatt's office. Booth emerged from one of the doors and smiled at her. His long strides ate the distance between them and he swept her into a tight hug.

She struggled to find enough air to speak. "Booth, remember we agreed on professional?"

He loosened his grip marginally. "I don't care right now."

Then his lips were on hers. For a moment she remained rigid, but then she became lost in him, his flavor, his scent, and the feel of being in his arms and she began to kiss him back. However, still aware of their surroundings, she pulled back before they became too involved.

She laughed huskily. "Glad to see me?"

"You have no idea how much."

"Dr. Brennan?" Dr. Wyatt's English accent interrupted them.

"I'll come by the lab later." Booth dropped a last quick kiss on her lips, and then headed for the door.

She turned to the psychologist, taking a deep breath and trying to regain her composure. He gestured her into his office. She sat in the chair furthest from the desk, her nerves humming.

"I don't like psychology," she blurted.

"So you've said before. Unfortunately, you need my approval to continue working in the field. Now, I've read the case file, the interview transcripts, and talking with Booth gave me a pretty good idea of what happened, but I'd like to hear what happened from your perspective."

Not wanting to relive the nightmare for a second time that day, she said, "I'm talking to Booth about it."

"That's a very good start, but…"

Suddenly she was very angry. "Why can't everyone just leave me alone? I spent half the weekend trying to prove to everyone that I'm okay. It's bad enough that it happened. I don't want to deal with their curiosity, sympathy and questions."

Dr. Wyatt leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "Anger is a normal reaction to traumatic events."

"As are nightmares, inability to sleep, jumpiness and a variety of other symptoms," she added in a sarcastic tone. "This isn't the first traumatic event I've experienced, Dr. Wyatt."

"No?"

"No. I was abandoned by my parents and spent time in foster care. There was that time in El Salvador. I've been kidnapped several times and then there was the Gravedigger. I'm pretty sure I could write a book on PTSD."

'Maybe that will shut him up,' she thought.

"Well, since you clearly don't want to discuss the last two weeks, let's talk about one of those."

She sighed internally and pushed her emotions back to their normal place.

"Why?" she demanded in a hard sarcastic tone. "Because 'a history of traumatic events makes the victim more vulnerable'?"

He nodded. "You've done your homework."

"The fact that I dislike psychology doesn't mean that I don't have a basic understanding of it."

Brennan took a moment to reconsider her attitude. She loved working in the field and she simply wanted things to go back to normal. If she had to talk about some things with Dr. Wyatt, so be it.

Since he was giving her her choice of topics, she went for the easiest.

"Fine. The year I was fifteen my parents disappeared. They were part of a gang of bank robbers before I was born. During their last job they found something very sensitive and decided that it was better to take on new identities and drop out of sight. It worked for a while, but when I was fifteen, one of their old gang found them. So the day before Christmas, they left my brother to take care of me. My brother didn't feel he could take care of me either, so he left about a week later. Then I was in the foster system until my grandfather got me out. Most of the things people say about the foster system are true. Not all of them happened to me, but I met other kids who…"

Dr. Wyatt broke in. "That was an excellent summary. Perhaps you'd care to share how you _felt_ when you realized your parents weren't coming back and how you _feel_ about it now. I understand that you've recently reconnected with your father."

"I felt abandoned, alone, scared, and angry. I didn't understand how someone who said they loved me could just leave me like that. Then I found my mother's body and started getting answers. It didn't change what happened, it just made me more confused about whether my parents were good people or not. When my father reappeared, I wasn't very nice to him. I wasn't sure I wanted a criminal for a father. He was still trying to protect Russ and me, and he killed the Deputy Director of the FBI. Of course, I was part of the team that identified the body of Kirby and that put us on opposite sides of the law. Then he let Booth arrest him, so he could see more of me. I love my Dad, and I'm glad he's out of prison, but still don't know what to think."

"Well, we've reached the end of our time for today. I'd like to meet with you again next week to see how things are going."

Brennan nodded, but he could see she was disappointed. Like her FBI counterpart, she had hoped that a single session would be sufficient to get her back in the field. In reality, there was no quick fix. It would take many sessions to deal with the emotional and psychological repercussions of their ordeal and being uncooperative would only prolong it. They both stood and he escorted her to the door.

Angela noticed her best friend's bad mood the minute she walked onto the platform. She tried to intercept her, but Brennan quickly moved her to Zach's side. The two began discussing an anomaly on the bones laid out on the table in front of them.

When the conversation was over, Angela followed her friend back to her office.

"What put you in such a bad mood?" the artist asked bluntly.

"I hate psychology."

"So your session didn't go well?"

"I didn't get clearance to go back into the field and I'm supposed to go back."

Angela thought for a moment. "Would you consider Booth being unable to save Howard Epps traumatic?"

Brennan shook her head, surprised at the change of subject.

"Yet afterward he shot that clown truck," the artist noted. "Dr. Wyatt didn't allow Booth to go out into the field after their first session.

"But I was hoping…"

"You were hoping that a single visit would be enough and you wouldn't have to go back. Although the situations aren't entirely analogous, I'm sure that Dr. Wyatt will let you both back into the field eventually."

"I just want things to be normal."

"I'm sure you do, but you and I both know that's going to take a while. In the mean time, nobody's stopping you from working in the lab. Maybe you'll be able to catch up on those authentications."

They both knew it wasn't much consolation, but it was certainly better than nothing.

"Thanks, Ange. You're a good friend."

With that she turned back to her e-mail to finish what she'd started that morning.

Several hours later, Booth found her in the same position at her desk, reviewing one-by-one the files that required more than a cursory glance.

"Hey, Bones, how about dinner?"

She barely glanced. "Can't you see I'm working?"

He sighed. Did they have to go through this every time?

"You have to eat."

"I'm busy, Booth."

None of his usual arguments worked. After he had tried them all, he left defeated.

She looked up in surprise. He never gave up if he could help it. What was going on with him?

The siren of her work caught her attention and pulled her back to the document on her computer.

Half an hour later Booth returned. She looked up immediately when he entered her office. 'Ah, he went out for food,' she thought when she saw the bags in his hand. She saved her document and moved to the table.

"Thanks, Booth," she said, smiling as she stole one of his fries. "How was your day?"

"Boring. I had ten million e-mails to read and a ton of paperwork to go through. I think it's going to take me a week to catch up."

"Booth, I doubt your e-mail box would hold ten million… wait, you're exaggerating right?"

He smiled broadly. "Yep. First step, recognizing common expressions; second step, making pop culture references!"

She mock frowned and swatted his shoulder with her hand.

Booth took the last bite of his burger and sat back. "Ah, that was good. You ready to head home?"

"I have a lot of work to do."

"I know, but it will keep until tomorrow."

"They wouldn't let me work last week, so I'm going to work now." When he looked as if he was going to argue, she added softly, "This is how I cope."

"I'm not leaving till you do."

"I think there's a TV in Angela's office."

He left in search of the TV. Occasionally, he checked on his girlfriend. When he got tired, he stretched out on her couch for a nap. At two in the morning, he found her slumped over her desk asleep and tried to take her home. But she argued stubbornly, so he waited a few minutes until she had fallen back to sleep and then lifted her out of her chair, carried her to the couch, curled his body around hers, and willed himself to sleep.


	14. Revealed

**AN: The usual thanks go to the usual people. Enjoy.**

When Brennan woke early the next morning, she was sandwiched between Booth's firm body and the back of the couch. She wiggled a bit and then gave up.

"Seeley, wake up."

He mumbled and tucked his head further into her neck.

She wiggled her hips and shoulders. "Come on, Booth. I need to get out."

In less than a second, Booth went from being asleep to being very turned on. The friction of their bodies set his nerves humming, and he began kissing her neck.

"Booth, stop that! I need to use the bathroom."

He sighed and sat up. She sat next to him and ran a hand through her hair. Then she stood and walked to the cupboard on the opposite side of her office. Opening the doors, she began to retrieve some clothes.

It took his sleepy brain a moment to catch up with what was going on.

"Nuh huh, Bones. We're going home to get ready."

"But…"

"No. We slept here last night because you wanted to stay. That's okay. But I refuse to use the decontamination shower."

"You could go home and use your own shower and I could shower here," she pointed out.

"Nope. New rule: you have to go home at least once a day."

"Just because we're dating doesn't mean you can make rules for me!"

He smiled. "I know you need your work right now, but I don't think it'd be a good idea if everyone knows we spent the night here."

Staying the night at work together didn't look very professional, and she didn't want to jeopardize their partnership. Cullen had put them on probation. "I hadn't thought of that."

She straightened up her office and pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

"You leave through the main employee entrance and I'll use the side exit. Meet me at the car."

Forty-five minutes later, she was reading the morning newspaper and sipping her morning cup of coffee. Her phone rang and she moved to the other room to answer it, glancing at the caller id.

"Hi, Ange. Aren't you usually sleeping at this time of the morning?"

"Turn on the TV now! Channel 7."

"What? I don't like watching TV."

"Well, you won't like this either, but you'd better watch it."

"Fine." She found the remote, turned on the TV and saw a picture of herself in the top right corner.

"Unsubstantiated rumors of a sex video involving New York Times best-selling author Temperance Brennan and an as yet unidentified man started floating around the Internet this weekend. We contacted her publicist and employer this morning in an attempt to confirm or deny the allegations but we have not yet received a reply. When we come back after the break…"

She tuned out the newscaster as she headed for the bedroom where Booth was getting dressed.

"We made the news."

He almost dropped the sock he was pulling on as she quoted the newscaster word for word.

"Damn it!" He pounded his fist into her mattress.

She was just as angry as he was, but maybe one of them could stay out of the limelight. "Look, they don't know who you are yet. Maybe we should stay away from each other for a while."

He looked up instantly. "I am not abandoning you to the media, Bones. We're in this together all the way."

Grabbing his phone off the dresser, he punched in a number. "Hi. Can you transfer me to the security office please?"

"Who are you calling?"

"Jeffersonian security. If the reputable news sources are reporting that, you can bet the less reputable ones will have sent reporters to the Jeffersonian."

At her panicked look, he continued, "I'll see if I can arrange another entrance."

"Hello, this is Special Agent Seeley Booth. Dr. Brennan made the news this morning. I was wondering if you could…"

"Uh huh. Thanks, Geoff. Is there another entrance she could use?"

"Thank you. We really appreciate it."

Snapping his phone shut, he said, "The Jeffersonian is crawling with reporters already. Geoff said that we should park on the bottom floor of the employee parking garage and if we call when we get there he'll bring us keys to the service elevator."

Her shoulders sagged in relief. "At least my address is unlisted. I supposed I'd better call my publicist."

Booth pulled on his socks and shoes. "Do it in the car."

She shrugged into her coat and grabbed her purse before pulling out her phone.

"Hi Nicole. I hear you've been getting calls."

She listened for a moment. "Yes, I know this isn't the kind of publicity that we want. I really can't go into it right now, I just need you to tell them I have no comment."

"Thanks, Nicole. I appreciate your help."

Booth pulled into a spot in the parking garage and called Jeffersonian Security.

"Geoff will be here in a couple of minutes. Are you going to be okay today?"

"The Jeffersonian has good security, so there shouldn't be any problems. I still have a lot of paperwork to catch up on."

Thinking of the mountain of papers on his desk, Booth groaned. "I hate doing paperwork."

"Me too."

Glancing around to make sure no one was in sight, he leaned across the seat and kissed her soundly. When he got out, Geoff waiting for them.

"Hi Geoff. We appreciate this."

"No problem. We look out for our own." With this he handed them each a key to the elevator.

"Would you mind escorting Dr. Brennan in? I should get to the office."

"Booth! I am perfectly capable of getting myself to my office."

Geoff spoke at the same time as Brennan. "It'd be my pleasure."

Brennan glared at both of them and stalked off in the direction of the elevator, key in hand. As Geoff hurried after her, Booth called, "See you later, Bones."

She made it to her office without incident and picked up where she'd left off earlier that morning. By midmorning she finished going through her backlog and started on some remains from limbo.

At lunchtime, Angela found her on the platform examining a scapula under a magnifying glass.

"Sweetie, let's grab some lunch."

"I'm busy at the moment."

"So we'll go in five or ten minutes when you're done."

"I'm not hungry."

"Bren, you need to eat. I know you have a lot to do, so let's just grab lunch at the cafeteria. Besides, we haven't had a good chat lately."

The anthropologist sighed knowing she was not going to win the argument. She put down the bone, snapped off her gloves. "Fine. Just let me grab my purse."

Five minutes later, the two walked into the Jeffersonian's cafeteria. She heard someone call her name and five seconds later she was practically mobbed by people asking questions.

"Tell me about the video," one said.

Another asked, "Do you have any comments about the rumors of the sex video?"

"Who's the man in the video with you?"

Brennan and Angela exchanged horrified looks and pushed their way through the crowd to the counter, ignoring the barrage of questions from the reporters behind them.

After they paid, Angela said loudly, "Let's eat somewhere else. The cafeteria's become infested with a pack of rats."

The two headed back toward their offices, closing the door marked "Authorized Personnel Only" firmly shut on the media.

"No wonder you didn't want to eat."

"No, it wasn't that. Security told Booth that reporters were swarming all over the place, but I had totally forgotten."

"Well, security's good, so we shouldn't be bothered in the lab," Angela said as they walked into her office. "Some other celebrity will do something stupid soon and they'll be off to hound them instead."

'I just want to make it through a day without being reminded about what happened,' Brennan thought, scowling.

Noticing the expression, Angela exerted herself to cajole Brennan out of her bad mood by telling funny stories from her childhood. By the end of lunch, she was smiling.

"Do you mind coming with me? I need to grab something from my office and then I've got a skull ready for a facial reconstruction."

"Sure, sweetie."

Brennan entered her office and reached for the clipboard on her desk before noticing the room had a third occupant.

Immediately alert, she straightened and eyed her unexpected guest.

Most people would have shrunk under that stare, but this woman stood up, smoothed the skirt of her suit, and introduced herself.

"Kelsey Jones, National Enquirer."

The reporter offered her hand to Brennan, but the anthropologist declined even basic courtesy. She cast a quick glance at Angela, who left immediately.

"Ms. Jones, this area of the Jeffersonian is for employees and their guests only. You need to leave."

"If you'd just answer a couple of questions…."

She reached for the phone and dialed security. "I have a Kelsey Jones in my office. She does not have a temporary badge and did not leave when I asked her politely."

The security person said, "We'll have someone there in five minutes."

"Thank you."

Turning to Kelsey, she said coldly, "Security will be here in five minutes. I'll give you a tour of the lab while we wait."

"That's very kind of you Dr. Brennan, but I'd rather just ask you a few questions."

"All questions are handled through my publicist."

Realizing the subject was closed, the reporter accepted the "offer" of a tour.

Escorting her out of the office, Brennan swept her hand to the left. "This area contains our offices."

"This room is used for bone storage. Each drawer contains a single set of remains."

Looking at the rows and rows of drawers disturbed Kelsey more than a little.

With a bland look, Brennan continued the tour. "If you'll follow me this way, I'll show you the platform where we examine the remains."

Angela saw them approaching. "Okay, guys. You know what do to."

Hodgins opined, "Maggie Schilling's death was particularly painful. Bound, lying on her side for days on end."

"No, the worst was those girls that had their eyes carved out by keys and then were fed to dogs," Zach disagreed.

Climbing the stairs, Brennan said, "This is where we examine the skeletal remains. You can see I'm in the middle of this set. She has an odd anomaly on her distal phalanges."

Snapping on a glove, she picked up the bone and offered the reporter the magnifying glass. Shuddering the woman handed the magnifying glass back and asked, "How can you tell this is a woman?"

"Lack of a prominent brow ridge is a good indicator. Also, women have a rounder pelvis, to allow for birth. There are other differences, but those are most noticeable."

Meanwhile the debate continued behind them.

"The girl in that hotel room explosion had to be in a lot of pain," Jack said.

"Yes, but it wouldn't have lasted long," Zack objected.

"If Larry hadn't been dead before they put him in the tub with all those chemicals, that would have been the most painful," Brennan said definitively.

Kelsey looked horrified. "Someone stuffed a person into a tub with a bunch of chemicals?"

Brennan nodded. "He was shot by his boss. His two wives and girlfriend found him, forced him in a tub at a construction site, and poured common households cleaners into it."

Zach continued eagerly, "When the tub arrived here, the flesh had been eaten away by the corrosive action of the chemicals. We filtered the residue for bones and other objects, and then separated the liquid of the body from the chemicals."

"Are they all like that?" the reporter asked.

"Oh no, those are only the murder cases we work with the FBI. Most of our work is identifying the bodies of soldiers retrieved from battlefields and other remains that cannot be easily identified by normal means. If you'll come this way, I'll show you the pathology lab."

"Dr. Saroyan, meet Kelsey Jones, a reporter for the National Enquirer."

Cam gave the woman a skeptical look, glanced at her gloved hands, and shrugged in apology for not shaking hands.

"The FBI pathologist sent this body over. He's an important aide to a senator, but they couldn't figure out why he died. They sent it to us to make sure it wasn't foul play."

She reached into the Y-shaped incision, pulled out the liver, put it into the metal bowl Brennan offered her and weighed it.

"The major internal organs like the heart and liver have to be removed and weighed. The FBI pathologist already did this, but I prefer to start from the beginning."

Brennan turned when she heard the sound of footsteps.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan, it took me a few minutes to find you when you weren't in your office," the security guard apologized.

He gestured toward the door. "If you'll come with me, Ms. Jones, we will discuss your unauthorized entry to private areas of the museum."

Thinking that the security office was definitely better than the lab with its bodies and strange scientists, she didn't hesitate to leave.

Everyone heaved a sigh of relief. As Brennan returned to her office to pick up what she'd been working on before lunch, she heard the slap of hands and Zach and Jack congratulating each other on scaring the inquisitive reporter.

Back in her office, she dropped her head into her hands. This day was turning out to be terrible. She wished she could forget what had happened, but everything and everybody was conspiring against her.

"Hey, sweetie, I just wanted to make sure you're okay," Angela said from the doorway of her office.

Brennan looked up. She knew Angela was trying to help, but suddenly something in her snapped.

"No, I'm not okay," she replied in a hard tone. "And I'm tired of people asking questions. I just want to be left alone!"

"That's harsh, Bren. I'm only asking because I care. If you didn't want me to ask, you could have just told me. There wasn't any need for you to yell at me." She turned on her heel and left.

The anthropologist picked up the phone and called her partner. "Make arrangements for me to use the shooting range. I need to let off some steam."

"Okay. I can be there in twenty minutes." He'd have to pull some strings to get her time in the middle of the day, but he'd make it happen.

Thirty minutes later, they were both putting slugs through paper targets. Before she fired, she imagined putting all her anger into the bullet. In her mind, the target became Powell Fitzhugh. One shot followed another until the paper target was shredded. If only she could destroy what had happened to them as easily as she had the paper.

Booth's phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket. He listened for a minute and then hung up.

"Do you have time for a short meeting with Caroline?" he asked tentatively. "She's the prosecuting attorney for our case."

At her nod, he removed the practice rounds from his weapons and holstered them, then picked up their spent shells.

They met with Caroline in one of the conference rooms upstairs.

"Cherie, good to see you. You two ended up in quite a situation. Please take a seat. All the people involved in your kidnapping have been arraigned and bail has been set for everyone." She snickered. "The judge set it so high for Fitzhugh and Pitts, I doubt they'll be able to make bail. Unfortunately, I was unable to convince the judge to leave your names out of it. The trial date has been set for early January."

"Thanks, Caroline," Booth replied.

"Mather and Jordan both took deals. With that, your testimony, and the evidence collected by the FBI, Pitts and Fitzhugh are going away for a long time," she added with satisfaction.

As Brennan bit back a bitter response, her phone rang.

"Brennan."

"You'd better turn on NBC right now," Nicole, her publicist, told her.

She hung up her phone and reached for the remote, flipping to the proper channel.

"And what exactly happened?" the TV spokeswoman asked the man standing next to him. She immediately recognized him as the man from the mall she'd labeled 'Sleazy.'

"I saw the actress from an internet video at the mall last Friday. I introduced myself to her, but she wasn't very friendly. When I saw the news report this morning, I recognized her as Dr. Temperance Brennan."

"Can you tell us anything else?"

"The man in the video was with her and claimed to be her boyfriend. He mentioned something about a kidnapping."

Booth grabbed the remote and turned the television off.

Brennan swore. "'I wasn't very friendly?' He was sexually harassing me! He completely misrepresented everything about the incident, including what you said."

"Well, call a press conference and set the record straight," the attorney suggested as she stood and gathered her things. "We'll talk soon."

The anthropologist watched her bustle out of the room. "Finally someone who didn't ask if I was okay and who didn't say they were sorry. More people should be like her."

She took a deep breath. "Cullen and Nicole suggested we call a press conference. Do you think they're right?"

He shrugged. "I can't see how it would hurt and maybe afterward the press would leave us alone."

"They don't know your name yet."

He shrugged. "You heard what Caroline said. Our names were read as part of the indictment. It's now a matter of public record. Someone will put it together eventually."

"What about Rebecca and Parker? It will affect them too."

"And my parents." He groaned and buried his head in his hands.

She placed her hand on his shoulder. "I supposed we'd better talk to them all now, regardless of what we decide about a press conference."

"You don't know my parents…"

"I suppose I ought to talk to my dad too. Actually, I'm kind of surprised he hasn't shown up demanding an explanation yet. I wonder how much he already knows."

"You should probably tell Russ and Amy and their girls, too."

"What are we going to tell the kids, Booth?"

"We'll figure it out."

"Maybe we could tell everybody all at once, like pulling off a band-aid quickly."

Within a few minutes, they were calling people and insisting on an emergency family meeting. Several people expressed their dissatisfaction over the late notice, but eventually they gave in.

Eight o'clock arrived and Brennan's living room was crowded with her family, close friends, Parker and Rebecca. When the rest of Booth's family was on videoconference, he began the introductions.

"Mom, Dad, everybody, this is my partner and girlfriend, Temperance Brennan."

Booth's family and Russ responded with surprise and demands to know why they hadn't been informed.

"We have some bad news, and it may affect everyone," Booth said.

"Please tell me Temperance isn't pregnant," his mother begged.

Brennan responded, "It's too early to tell yet."

He cut his mom off before she could speak again. "Please, just let us tell the story. Almost three weeks ago, Bones was kidnapped, and five days afterward I was kidnapped too. If you watched the news today, you probably heard the report of rumors about a video and Dr. Temperance Brennan. Unfortunately, the rumors are true. That video was made during the time we were held captive, and although the media doesn't have my name yet, it won't be long. The FBI found us last Thursday. The website has been shut down, but it's possible that some people may have downloaded it. The perpetrators were arraigned on Friday and Monday, and our names and the charges against them are now a matter of public record. The trial is scheduled for January. The Jeffersonian was crawling with reporters today, so the trial will probably be a media circus. I'm afraid that all of you may be media targets off and on over the next several months."

Everyone looked stunned.

"Daddy, what's the video of?" Parker asked curiously, not understanding everything else his father said.

"Private things that adults do," he asked, feeling it was better to allow the parents to individually speak to their children.

"How are you planning on handling this, son?" his father asked.

"We're considering giving a press conference, but we haven't decided one way or the other. Since the investigation is ongoing and the trial pending there's a lot we're not allowed to say. Either way, we felt you should hear the truth from us first."

"What do we say if a reporter knocks on our door?" Jared asked.

"Please say that you have no comment and that questions are being handled by my publicist," Brennan answered.

Booth looked around the room and then at the video camera and saw curiosity in some faces. He sighed. "We love you all, but we'd rather not talk about what happened while we were kidnapped."

Nods of understanding indicated that everyone would give them the space they so desperately needed. The conversation turned to other topics for a short while. Then, one by one the group broke up, those with kids leaving soonest, until only Angela and Jack remained. The two women collected the glasses and headed toward the kitchen.

The artist seized the opportunity while she had it. "So, you have yet to tell me just how good Booth is in bed."

"I just saw you nodding your head saying you'd stop asking questions about when we were kidnapped." Brennan's frustration was more than clear in her tone.

"Hey, you've been rescued for five days. You mean to tell me you two haven't… since then?"

The blush staining her cheeks was sufficient to answer her friend's question. "See, I wasn't asking about that."

Telling herself she had overreacted, she answered, "This is Booth, Ange. It's just different."

"You used to tell me about your guys voluntarily."

"Yeah, but Booth doesn't like to talk about it, so…"

"I get it."

"We have good chemistry," the anthropologist said with a smile. Then she sighed. "We were happy before the kidnapping and now I just don't know how to feel. It's like it's twisting everything in our lives."

Angela didn't know what to say, so she gave her friend a big hug. She was surprised to feel a tear drop onto her neck, but also glad that Brennan was releasing her emotions. Booth walked in a few moments later and immediately pulled his girlfriend into his arms.

"Hodgins is waiting for you," he said softly. "You'd better go."

Angela looked at her best friend and then back at Booth. His look said everything she needed to know. He was taking care of Brennan.


	15. Rearguard

**AN: The story goes on and so do the thanks to redrider6612 (editing) and FauxMaven (editing and chapter titles). **

After another night of interrupted sleep and a long discussion, the partners made a decision about the press conference.

Brennan dialed her publicist. "Can you set up a press conference for me sometime today?"

"Hello to you, Temperance."

"Oh right. Hi, Nicole. How are you?"

"Other than being inundated with calls yesterday, I'm good."

"So, can you set up a press conference?"

"I could, but you haven't even told me what's going on," Nicole hedged.

Damn her curiosity. If everyone, media included, would mind their own business, she could get on with her life. Instead, everybody insisted on bringing it up all over again. It wasn't like they wouldn't find out at the trial anyway.

"It's better if you don't know. You can't tell what you don't know, and I… I just don't want to talk about it."

Brennan stuffed her emotions in a box and returned to business. "We'd like to give a prepared statement and will not be answering any questions."

"I need to know what happened so I can fix this media disaster."

"Unfortunately, there isn't anything you can do to fix it. The most I can hope for is that they'll leave us alone for awhile."

Surprised at the display of emotion, Nicole suppressed her curiosity and agreed to call back with the details when everything was arranged.

Brennan buried herself in her work; the routine cleared away the lingering effects of her nightmare and brought a sense of normalcy. She worked most of the day with few interruptions. The first was Nicole calling back to let her know the conference was scheduled for five.

The second was her appointment with Dr. Wyatt. She took a cab to his office since Booth had driven her to work.

Their session began like any normal conversation with the usual 'Hellos' and disintegrated from there.

His first question set her on edge. "How have you been doing the past few days?"

"Fine."

She sounded so normal that most people would have believed her. But the psychologist doubted that was the case.

"Are you really?"

She was surprised at how quickly that single innocuous question pushed her over the edge.

"I've always thought that 'How are you?' was an annoying greeting. Nobody cares how you are, they just use it because it's culturally acceptable. But I hate it! People that never cared before now ask it in a concerned tone of voice. Do they think I'm really going to tell them how I feel? I'm angry half the time and the rest I'm trying to keep things together and get on with my life. I may not have a lot of social skills, but even I know you don't give people a real answer."

Dr. Wyatt observed her outburst with equanimity. Although she wasn't directly discussing the kidnapping, she was close to the subject.

"You made the news again this morning."

Brennan sighed. "Yesterday the cafeteria was crawling with reporters. One even sneaked into my office. We had to get our families together to address it; they needed to know the truth. Someday Parker will be old enough to understand the significance of the videos, and what will we tell him then? The kidnapping should never have happened and it was a violation in so many ways; but it didn't end when we were rescued. Now our families have been dragged into it and who knows what affect it will have on our partnership."

"Speaking of Booth, how is he handling this?"

Thinking of Booth made her smile. "He's determined that we're going to get through this and come out on the other side together and stronger than ever. The media doesn't know his name, but I doubt it will take long. I told him he should let me handle the press conference, but he insists on being there."

"The last several weeks have been difficult for both of you. I'm sure he doesn't want you to be alone."

"I've been managing my own affairs for years," she objected.

"Of course. But being supportive is a positive thing in a romantic relationship or a friendship. It's a demonstration of his commitment to you. Reporters sometimes behave like a pack of ravening wolves. That's probably sending his strong protective instincts into overdrive. He doesn't want you to become their prey."

"I should have known that it had something to do with his alpha male tendencies! One of these days he's going to have to learn that I don't need his protection. Sometimes I don't know why I even put up with it."

Dr. Wyatt thought for a moment. "You are a very capable woman. No one would contest that. Some of his need to protect you stems from those 'alpha male tendencies' you mentioned. But I believe the rest has another origin."

"It does?"

"Let me give you an example. Miss Montenegro is your best friend. If you felt that something bad might happen to her, you would take steps to prevent it, correct?"

She nodded.

"And if something bad did happen to her, you'd be trying to do what you could to help her. Why is that?"

"She's my best friend. I care about her and her wellbeing."

"That kind of feeling is magnified in a romantic relationship. He's so protective of you because he loves you and you allow it for that reason. As an alpha female, you assert your independence and capability. Ironically, you are equally protective of him. It simply manifests itself in a different manner. One of the reasons you don't want him at the press conference is to protect him from the media."

"I hadn't thought about it from that perspective. I was thinking more of the impact it would have on Parker and his family."

"So you're trying to protect both him and his loved ones. Evaluating your actions objectively, I would have to say that you love Agent Booth very much."

"Emotions are subjective and illogical."

"Perhaps. But people do experience them and emotions do affect their actions. From actions it is possible to discern feelings. Your actions indicate you love him."

"I know," she said shakily, finally admitting aloud what she had recognized several months before. "That's why this is so difficult. I want to do what I always do when life gets hard – bury myself in my work. Booth won't let me, and I don't have the heart to shut him out."

He nodded and then glanced at his watch. "We've reached the end of our time today. The session went well. I'll see you on Friday."

She looked at him hopefully. "Does this mean I'll be allowed to go back into the field soon?"

"If we continue to make progress, yes."

All too soon she was standing next to Nicole on the steps of the Jeffersonian facing a sea of reporters and video cameras. Several feet behind her, Booth and Angela supported her from the shadows of the entrance.

At five o'clock exactly, Nicole stepped up to the bank of microphones and signaled for silence.

"Welcome. My name is Nicole Young, Dr. Brennan's publicist. I arranged this press conference at her request. She will be giving a prepared statement."

She stepped to the side and gestured Brennan forward. The anthropologist set her FBI and Jeffersonian approved speech down on the podium and looked at the cameras.

She took a deep breath, screwed up her courage, and detached herself, falling into her work persona. "Recently, you have been reporting rumors of a sex video of me. The video was made under adverse and difficult circumstances. For legal reasons, I cannot be more forthcoming. On a personal level, the media attention is disrupting my ability to do my job – indentifying the remains of murder victims and unknown soldiers and bringing resolution to their families. These families deserve to know the truth about their loved ones. Please don't make them wait any longer."

Looking up at the reporters, she suppressed a sigh of relief. It was done. As soon as they realized she'd finished her prepared speech, they began bombarding her with questions.

"I will not be answering any questions at this time."

Then she moved into the shadows next to Booth and Angela while Nicole gave them instructions for submitting questions without promising that they would be answered. Booth wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

As she leaned into him, he whispered, "Good job. I'm so proud of you."

"What's there to be proud of? I just read off of the paper. Teaching a class or presenting at a conference requires much more preparation and effort."

"True, but their emotional content is much smaller."

The babble of voices rose again as the high-powered cameras caught the scene in the shadows on tape and Booth was recognized.

A minute later, Nicole finished and the four retreated to the relative safety of the Jeffersonian. Since several stations were carrying the interview live, Hodgins and Zach had recorded several versions of it. Angela and Nicole went to check out the media's spin, but Booth and Brennan retreated to her office.

"That was more difficult than I expected," commented Brennan as she plopped down on the couch.

He sat next to her. "Really?"

"Yes. I've taught large classes and given press conferences before, but this one was different. I felt like a carcass surrounded by a pack of hyenas."

"I'm developing a hearty dislike of the media these days."

Wanting to get both their minds off the interview, he pulled her close and kissed her. He had intended the kiss to be short and comforting, but she responded eagerly, deepening the kiss. He pulled her into his lap, wrapping one arm around her waist. Aware of the glass walls, he reached for the chord that lowered the blinds before winding his fingers into her auburn tresses.

The sound of the blinds hitting the floor jarred Brennan back to reality. "Booth, we shouldn't be doing this here! We have to be professional, remember?"

Dazed from the headiness of kissing her, it took him a minute to process her words. Then he broke into a big grin.

"I was going for a short, distracting kiss. You were the one that turned it into a make-out session."

He laughed at her indignant expression. "Relax, Bones. It's after work hours and I doubt anybody noticed. Or if they did, that they care."

She rolled her eyes at him and tried to move off his lap. He tightened his arms. "A couple of minutes, please?"

After a moment she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I had an appointment with Gordon-Gordon today," Booth commented. "Talking with you about my past is so easy; somehow I thought counseling would be easier. But it's not."

"I spent my appointment ranting about how I hate the media and the well-intentioned, but misguided, 'How are yous' I've been getting. From that, he concluded that I love you. In the end he said I was making good progress." She shook her head. "I'll never understand psychology."

The words 'I love you' coming out of her mouth sent him reeling.

"You love me?"

"That wasn't what I said, but yes, I love you, Seeley."

He couldn't stop the tears that came to his eyes. When one hit her cheek, she raised her head and looked at him, lifting a hand to wipe the wetness from his cheek.

"Are you okay?"

"I think this is the happiest day of my life."

She couldn't resist teasing him a bit. "Even better than the day Parker was born?"

He gave her a watery smile. "Well, at least as happy as that."

"And that's why you're crying?"

"No, the tears were because this has been an emotional day."

Although she would never admit it aloud, she agreed with him. Instead, she kissed his cheek.

He enjoyed having her in his arms for a few moments before bringing up a difficult topic.

"You have an appointment tomorrow morning, right?"

Trying not to panic, she replied calmly, "Yes, at 9:30. I already told Cam I need the morning off."

He paused, took a deep breath, and plunged in. "Temperance, have you thought about what we'll do if you are pregnant?"

She couldn't keep the desperation from her voice. "You know I deal with facts and not conjecture. Once we get the lab results, then we'll make a decision."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

She shrugged, not sure how she felt. Her emotions were all over the place these days. She couldn't predict how she'd feel ten minutes from now; how could she say what she would want tomorrow?

She rose and headed toward her desk.

He stood and stretched. "Sam called me today. We're going to have lunch tomorrow and hit the court for a while."

Her hand covered her mouth as her shoulders crumpled. In two large strides, he crossed her office and pulled her into his arms. From the rigid set of her shoulders, he could tell she was fighting tears.

Forcing her voice into normal tone, she asked the question even though she didn't really want the answer. "I… I can't believe I forgot about Celia. Did he say how she's doing?"

"She's skittish about being touched, doesn't want to go out, hates visiting her psychologist and refuses to talk to Sam about it. Caroline met with them yesterday, too."

Swallowing the lump in her throat and pushing away the ball of guilt in her midsection, she stepped out of the safety of his embrace. "I'm going to start on a body from Limbo."

"Let's go home, Temperance."

"I need this right now."

The understanding expression in his warm eyes sent her already unsettled emotions spinning out of control. How did he manage to do that? She would not cry right now. She glared at him.

He held up both his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, but let's not stay all night tonight, okay? Maybe we can get Pride and Prejudice from the video store and start it."

She sighed in relief. "Okay, Booth. Feel free to use the TV in Angela's office if you want; I'm sure she won't mind." She would rather work until she was too exhausted to stay awake, but like she'd told Dr. Wyatt earlier she didn't have the heart to shut him out.

As she walked from bone storage to the platform, the sound of a sports game floated out of Angela's office.


	16. Glue

**AN: You can pretty much predict what I'll say, right? So there's no need for me to type it again, is there? Didn't think so.**

Booth and Brennan sat in the waiting room of the doctor's office. While he idly flipped through a magazine, she could no longer avoid thoughts of pregnancy. She wondered what it would be like to give birth and how many changes she'd have to make to accommodate a child.

The voice of a nurse distracted her from her rising panic. "Temperance Brennan."

As she stood, Booth asked, "Do you want me to come with you?"

"I'll be fine, Booth."

She followed the nurse through the door and the usual weight, temperature and blood pressure procedures. Then the nurse left her to change into a thin hospital gown.

A few minutes later, Dr. Georgia Spencer, her gynecologist for the past eight years, arrived and began the exam.

Straightening up, Dr. Spencer removed the surgical gloves and tossed them in the trashcan. "Physically, you have recovered well from the 'overly vigorous sexual activity' described by the doctor at the hospital."

'I knew that. Get to the rest of it,' Brennan thought.

"You don't appear to be pregnant from the pelvic exam, but it's too early for that to be a reliable indicator. After you get dressed, the nurse will direct you the lab area. They'll draw some blood. We should have the results sometime in the next day or two."

"You'll call me immediately when you get the results? The past couple of weeks have been… difficult, and knowing one way or the other would go a long way to settling my mind."

Pushing away curiosity at her patient's unusual behavior, she answered, "Someone will contact you the day we get it."

The doctor left and Brennan sighed heavily as she dressed. She'd known she would have to wait for the test results, but she was surprised at how much she wanted the answer now.

The ride to the Jeffersonian passed in silence. Booth glanced at her from time to time as she stared out the window. From her expression, she was deep in thought.

As he pulled into the parking garage, he said, "Penny for your thoughts."

She gave him a weak smile. "I'm not ready to talk about it yet."

"Okay. I'm here when you are."

He leaned over and kissed her good-bye. It wasn't a particularly long or passionate kiss, but the flash of a camera indicated that at least one pesky paparazzo was watching them.

Brennan silently exited the car and headed toward the normal elevator, ignoring the intrusive questions of the photographer and fighting the desire break his camera and lay him flat on his pack with a martial-arts move.

Angela was waiting for her when she arrived in her office, but she was too preoccupied with her thought to notice.

"Sweetie, you're finally here! I hope it's because you and your man candy spent a few extra minutes in bed."

Brennan jumped a little at her friend's voice. "I had a doctor's appointment this morning."

She shrugged out of her coat and purse, dropped into her chair, and booted up her computer. She stared at the computer deep in thought as the bootup sequence began, momentarily forgetting Angela's presence. The loud sound of a clearing throat brought her back to reality.

"Did you need something, Angela?"

"I finished the facial reconstructions on the latest two bodies from Limbo."

"Thanks, Ange. I'll read my e-mail and then head over to your office."

Noticing Brennan's distraction, she left quietly.

An hour later, Brennan was hunched over another skeleton from Limbo, having completely forgotten to visit Angela. She was trying to concentrate on the abnormal markings on the manubrium, but her thoughts kept straying. She sighed. At least no one had noticed.

"Bren, did you want to see the 3D reconstructions now?"

"Coming." She snapped off her gloves.

Angela touched a few buttons on her pad and the female face appeared on the Angelator. The anthropologist looked at it and compared it to the file.

"Nice work. Did you compare this against the missing persons' database?"

"No hits."

She made a note in the file. "Hodgins can do a strontium isotope analysis on the teeth to narrow down the person's origin."

Angela put the second reconstruction up on the screen, but she no longer had Brennan's attention.

She turned off the Angelator and closed the door.

"You wanna tell me what's going on in that brain of yours?" the artist asked.

"The doctor's appointment today was to try and determine if I'm pregnant. I won't have the results for a day or two probably."

"And?"

"And what, Ange? I just have to wait for the results."

"Sure, but that alone wouldn't be enough to distract you this badly. You're very good at compartmentalizing."

"I… I've always said I never wanted children and objectively speaking, none of my reasoning has changed."

"And non-objectively?" Angela prompted.

"Things are so messed up right now, and I'm afraid that my relationship with Booth might fall apart. People that say they love me tend to leave. I know it's not logical, but I can't get the thought out of my head. But Booth would never leave his child."

"So if you were pregnant, then you know he'd always be around." She finished the thought, hugging her best friend. "Oh, Sweetie. Booth would never leave over something like this. He waited so long for the two of you to be together. That amazing Sunday you decided to start dating, what did he tell you?"

Brennan answered hesitantly, "He said he wanted forever."

"He decided that long before any of this happened. I doubt this is likely to change his mind. He can hardly go two hours without calling you to make sure you're okay."

Nodding, she stood. "Thanks, Ange. I told you it was illogical, but fears are rarely rational. I think I'm ready to see that second reconstruction now."

"Okay, but you should tell Booth what you've been thinking."

"I'll consider it, but I feel like I've been dumping all my emotions on him lately and he's dealing with just as much as I am."

Several hours and several interruptions later, she was back on the platform examining the manubrium again, this time under a high-powered microscope. Neither she nor Zach had been able to determine what made the marks. Carefully, Brennan transferred several particulates from the bone to a slide and set them aside for Hodgins.

As she replaced the bone on the examination table, she heard the beep indicating someone had swiped a card for access to the platform. A moment later, she identified Booth by the sound his shoes made on the stairs.

A large smile covered his face and there was a manila folder and a large envelope in his hand.

"Do we have a case?" she asked eagerly.

He shook his head, offering her the envelope and folder. "But it's the next best thing, a consult."

She snapped off her gloves, threw them in the trash, and grabbed the envelope. She pulled out the first x-ray and held it up to the light, then the rest one by one.

"Male, between thirty and forty years of age. I'm unable to estimate time of death, but he was a golfer and appears to have died from sharp force trauma to the frontal bone. Markings on the carpal bones indicate he saw the blow coming and tried to defend himself. Without seeing the remains, I can't be certain, but the weapon appears to be some kind of a chisel with a narrow blade."

She looked up. "Why exactly did they want me to look at these?"

"You could have looked at the file, Bones."

"You know that I prefer my examinations untainted by outside influence." She carefully put the x-rays replaced in the envelope and placed it on the empty table to her right.

"Well, the coroner identified the body and the cause of death, but couldn't narrow down the specific weapon used so they called me." He smiled broadly, pride clearly evident in his posture. "You really are the best, Bones. You can tell from x-rays what he couldn't figure it out with the whole body in front of him."

She smiled back at him. She should be used to such praise by now, but at this particular moment, coming from this particular man, it meant a lot. She hugged him tightly.

"Thank you, Booth."

"Um… you're welcome, but what are you thanking me for?"

"For, you know, just being you."

"Okay." The answer didn't really clear up his confusion. With a mental shrug, he returned to business. "I'm gonna call the agent in charge of this case and let him know, and then we can get out of here."

"Booth, it's only four. I can't leave yet."

Waving her to silence, he spoke into the phone. "Look for a chisel with a narrow blade. I'll get the file and x-rays back to you tomorrow."

He turned his attention back to his partner and smiled his charm smile. "A little birdie told me that you were having a hard time concentrating."

Brennan sighed. "Angela called you, didn't she?"

He shrugged.

"She should mind her own business. What else did she tell you?" This last was more of a demand than a question.

"Nothing, why?"

It was her turn to shrug. His compliment a few minutes before had settled her fears for the moment.

He carefully searched her expression. Finding nothing wrong, he decided to let it go.

"Anyhow, there's pizza and a movie with your name on it. Let's blow this joint."

"I don't know what that means," she replied as she headed toward the stairs.

As they headed toward his car, he explained the expression. They talked about what they'd gotten done at work that day (neither had been very productive) before she remembered to ask about how things had gone with Sam.

"It was okay. Lunch was good and we had an intense game of one on one," he answered carefully.

Brennan forced herself to ask. "And Celia?"

"No change since yesterday."

After that, oppressive silence reigned in the car, and both were glad when the drive ended. Soon they were settled on her couch, pizza and coke in front of them. He pushed the button on the remote and the movie began to play. When the food was gone, they paused the movie to clean up, then snuggled up together to finish the rest of the movie.

"I get it!" Brennan exclaimed interrupting the movie. "This is what you meant that day at Hodgins' house. Darcy climbs out of the pond and surprises Elizabeth."

He smiled fondly at her. "Exactly. That was almost two months ago though. I'm surprised you remember it."

"I have an excellent memory!"

"For things you consider important, but it was a single comment and a movie reference."

"The things you say to me _are_ important." She smiled at him, before turning back to the screen.

He hugged her a bit closer and resisted the urge to kiss her. She was enjoying the movie and he didn't want to distract her.

It was late when the movie finished. Ten minutes later, Brennan had brushed her teeth, washed her face, and was settling between cool sheets. He slid into bed next to her and she was glad of his warmth.

"You're going to sleep with a shirt tonight?" she asked in surprise. They hadn't been sharing a bed for long, but this was the first time he'd worn a T-shirt to bed.

He shrugged casually, but she knew him well enough to know he was hiding something.

"What's going on, Booth?"

He pursed his lips and then slowly removed the T-shirt. His abdomen and chest were covered in bruises.

She examined them for a moment and then met his eyes.

"Sam needed to let off some steam," he answered her unspoken question.

"And he thought this was an appropriate way to do it?!?"

He shrugged.

"And you just let him?"

He shrugged again.

"I think you'd better tell me exactly what happened."

He really didn't want to repeat the other man's words to her. "Bones, I'm not sure that's a good idea."

She glared at him fiercely until he gave in. "He asked me how my girlfriend could do that kind of thing to his girlfriend, and then he started pummeling me."

"And you let him hit you." When she didn't receive a response, she continued, "He shouldn't blame you. You have absolutely no responsibility for the situation and certainly no control over my actions."

She saw guilt in his eyes in the short moment before he looked away.

"Booth?"

The concern in her voice nearly undid him.

"If I'd just found you sooner…" His voice was hoarse with suppressed emotion.

Her voice was firm and her words rang with conviction. "I looked at the file, Booth. You did absolutely everything you could have. There just wasn't any evidence. You are not responsible for what happened to us and there was nothing you could have done to change it."

"But I didn't protect you." His words were so quiet that she almost missed them.

"You look out for me, but you can't protect me from everything. That's simply impossible. Remember what I told you on Sunday? We can't change what's already happened, only continue to move forward. We have to figure out a way to let go of our guilt."

As her fingers danced carefully across the bruises, he noticed that she'd switched from talking about him to talking about both of them.

"And these are not your fault. Sam just needed to work out his anger with someone who understands. I told him that you were doing what it took to survive."

"Do you think that Sam and Celia will stay together?" She wanted to ask if they would survive this, but she didn't have the guts.

"If she stops fighting Sam and the therapy and starts letting them help her, definitely."

"Really?" This time he heard the poorly disguised uncertainty.

"We will get through this together and be stronger for it. Neither of us are quitters and I'm not leaving just because things are difficult right now." He scooted close to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. He looked her straight in the eye. "I am committed to you and to our relationship. I'd marry you tomorrow if you want proof. But you've never wanted to get married, and it's probably a bit premature, and not a good idea right now." He paused for a moment, stunned by an idea. "You remember back in the basement? You designed that shield for us. We could get matching tattoos in that design with the word 'Forever' underneath."

His words sent her brain and emotions spinning. Once again he had managed to say exactly what she needed to hear. She hadn't even told him about her conversation with Angela or about the fears she just couldn't seem to banish. Pushing away tears, she said the first thing that came to mind. "But you hated the idea."

"What you were suggesting and getting tattoos are totally different."

"That makes sense."

"It's too late to make decisions about this kind of thing tonight. Let's sleep on it."

Then he distracted her with kisses. "I love you, Temperance."

She smiled at him, a sleepy smile he thought was totally adorable, and then her eyelids slipped shut as she fell asleep.


	17. Faces To The Sun

**AN: Here's the next part. Enjoy.**

Brennan stared at the phone as she slowly replaced it in the cradle. She'd known the instant the phone had rung that morning that it was the doctor's office.

"Bones? Was that the phone?" Booth's voice came from the master bathroom.

"Yeah. It was the doctor's office."

"And?"

"And I'm not sure if I feel relieved or what."

Upon hearing the uncertainty in her voice, he immediately went to her. Sinking onto the bed beside her, he asked, "What did they say?"

"We're not pregnant and I can go back on the pill."

Suddenly he understood her comment. He was glad that the kidnapping would eventually be completely over without daily reminders. On the other hand, he loved the idea of having a child with her.

"I think it's normal to have mixed emotions in this situation." He pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently. "I know I do."

She sniffed, trying to hold back tears. "I'm so tired of not knowing how I feel and my moods changing on a dime. And I hate crying so much."

"It will all get better. It just takes time."

The certainty in his voice reassured her. They'd been through traumatic events, individually and together, and they'd emerged stronger afterward. There was no reason to believe that this would be any different than any of those times.

She nodded decisively and stood. "I'm going to take a shower."

Twenty minutes later, she found Booth seated at her kitchen table reading the sports page and drinking coffee. She grabbed a cup of coffee and put some bread in the toaster. Then she sat down next to him and reached for the front page. It felt so domestic, so normal, that she could resist a smile. She could get use to seeing him every morning like this.

The headline read "Mystery man identified as partner." It was accompanied by a picture of them kissing, which she immediately recognized as the one taken yesterday. She snorted.

"You read the headline."

It was more of a statement than a question, but she answered anyway. "Yes. I wish they'd go bother somebody else."

"It was bound to happen soon. Actually I'm kind of surprised we managed to keep my name out of the press this long."

"Doesn't this bother you?"

"Not particularly. But I hate to imagine what Cullen will say about the picture. I should have known better. Instead I added fuel to the fire."

Brennan glanced at the clock. "If we don't get out of here, we'll both be late for work."

Ten minutes later, the media mobbed the SUV as Booth pulled into the Jeffersonian. He slowed the car to a crawl as he attempted to navigate the parking lot without hurting anyone. After what seemed like hours, he finally pulled into the handicapped parking spot closest to the employee entrance. Sometimes being an FBI agent had its perks. He would never consider doing this on a normal day, but today was anything but normal. He would get somebody to re-park it for him later.

While a woman in a business suit unsuccessfully tried to open one the locked doors, Booth glanced at the crowd trying to figure out the best way to get Brennan into the building. A knocking on the glass caught his attention. He sighed with relief to see the two security guards at Brennan's door.

"I'm going to get out and come around to your door. Once I get there, we'll escort you into the building," he told Brennan. To his relief she nodded and didn't argue.

He put on his game face, then unlocked his door and opened it. Immediately, a forest of microphones was thrust at him and people began calling questions. He closed the door behind him, locking it with the remote.

"Seeley Booth, how do you feel about the video?"

"What kind of relationship do you and your partner have?"

"How long have the two of you been together?"

He ignored the questions and let them see the forbidding face of the army sniper he had been. Those nearest him took a step back, but were pushed toward him again as the crowd surged in his direction.

He focused on the first person in his path and barked, "Move." Immediately, the reporter scrambled out of his way, seeing potential violence in his expression; one after the other they moved out of his way. When he reached Brennan's door, he nodded to her and hit the unlock button on the remote. She slipped out of the door and into the protective circle of Booth and the security guards. Media personnel scurried to get in front of them.

Although it was only a few yards from the parking spot to the entrance of the Jeffersonian, they had to force their way through. The Jeffersonian security guards did their best, but the crowd soon forced them away from Booth and Brennan. The partners ignored the questions and plowed toward the door.

Frustrated by their lack of response, a tall blond-haired reporter tugged on Brennan's arm trying to get her attention. Her reaction was instantaneous. With two perfectly executed karate moves, he was on his back on the ground.

"Don't touch me," she snarled at him.

For a moment, stunned silence reigned and then the babble of voices began again as reporters demanded if their cameramen had gotten it on tape.

Booth's expression changed from blank and somewhat forbidding to downright murderous and the ranks opened before him like Moses parting the Red Sea. Two seconds later they were within the safety of the Jeffersonian's walls and moving toward Brennan's office.

"Sweetie, you're here!" Angela called, striding up to them. "Was it horrible? I knew it would be when I saw all those reporters." Then she got a good look at Booth. "Nice game face, G-man. I promise to be good."

He let out a deep sigh and then his face relaxed into a more normal expression. "Hi, Angela. Be glad it isn't you."

Her laugh echoed down the hallway. "You've forgotten who my father is. Believe me, I've been there."

Brennan placed her purse in her desk and allowed Booth to help her out of her coat. She flopped into her chair and booted up her computer.

He sat down on her couch. "I'm going to need a few minutes before I'm ready to brave that circus to get to my car."

His phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and sighed when he saw the Caller ID.

"Good morning, sir," he greeted his boss.

As Brennan worked her way through her inbox, she heard his occasional "Yes, sirs" and "Uh huhs."

By the time his call was done, lines had settled into his forehead and his shoulders drooped.

She got up from her desk and sat next to him, reaching out to take his hand in hers. "His opinion on the photo in the paper?"

"Yep, and on your taking out that guy. It made the morning talk shows."

She wanted to say the right thing to make him feel better, but she didn't know what that was. Instead she scooted closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. Maybe this was one of those times when a touch was enough. They remained that way for a long moment.

Then Cam knocked on the door to announce her presence and then took a seat opposite them. Immediately she homed in on Booth's expression. "Having a bad day, Seeley?"

"You have no idea. And don't call me Seeley, Camille."

She frowned at him and then turned to Brennan. "Nice moves, Dr. Brennan. I knew you were trained in martial arts, but I had no idea you were that good."

The anthropologist frowned in confusion, so Cam elaborated. "The Jeffersonian's publicity department sent me a video of your tussle with that reporter. I called the lawyers. Unfortunately, since this is a publicly funded institution we can't kick them off the premises."

She paused a moment, knowing what needed to be said next would be difficult for them to hear. "I met with the Board of Directors earlier this morning. They're unhappy about the publicity. The minute after I found out about the meeting I called Caroline. She came to the meeting with me to remind them of the legalities. She gave them a general summary of what happened, and then outlined what would happen if anybody messed with her case or your jobs."

The partners looked at each other for a minute and then Booth spoke for both of them. "It's wrong that our private lives are splashed across the front pages and TVs of the whole country." He put his arm around Brennan. "How can we move on when they remind us about it every time we take a step outside?"

"The media storm is terrible right now," Cam sympathized, "but it will blow over when another big story comes along. You two are strong enough to get through this."

"And we'll be right back in the news when the trial starts," Brennan said bitterly. "The worst part is that it gets in the way of us doing our jobs."

"We're all supporting you. You survived foster care, you'll survive this too," Cam said as she rose. "I have an autopsy I need to start."

"I should head to work," Booth said a few minutes later. "Meet me tonight at the Lincoln Memorial at 7:15. I'm sure Angela would love to help you with a disguise." He winked at her.

At seven that night, Brennan walked out of a side door of the Jeffersonian in Angela's coat, a scarf tied around her head. She took a roundabout route to the Lincoln Memorial and sat on the top step. As she waited, she remembered the evening a drunk Booth told her that he'd have rounded up the Boston tea-partiers and thrown them in prison. The memory made her smile.

She surveyed the people around the memorial, hoping Booth would arrive soon. For the most part the crowd was business people hurrying home from a late night at the office. There were a few couples out for a moonlight stroll. A guy wearing a baseball cap and an old sweatshirt caught her attention and she smiled as she recognized her partner.

She smiled at him as he climbed the last few steps. He offered her a cup of coffee. "Bones, you made it. Sorry I'm late. I had to lose a couple of reporters, but I brought us dinner and a surprise."

They opened the takeout boxes and dug into the Thai food.

"I thought this was your weekend with Parker," she commented.

"It is. I'll be picking him up in an hour or so. I thought maybe we'd stay with you." He paused trying to gauge her reaction. "Or you can stay with us."

"I don't want to be in the way."

"Trust me, Bones, you won't be."

She looked a bit skeptical, but took him at his word. "Okay. I think your place would be better. Mine doesn't have a lot for a child."

"How did your meeting with Gordon-Gordon go?" he asked. "I'm still stuck mostly doing paperwork." He'd been told that he could work in the field as much as she was allowed to, but he didn't want to get her hopes up.

Her smile was huge. "I've been partly released for field work. I can go to the sites and collect remains. Of course I still have to meet with him, but he's not so bad as psychologists go."

He smiled back before eating the last of the Pad Thai. "Well, I'm allowed to go with you to those crime scenes and to liaise with the Jeffersonian, but we won't be getting any full-fledged cases just yet."

During a lull in the conversation, he handed her a plain white envelope. She pulled out a photocopy of the shield she'd designed for them in the basement, a homemade certificate for two tattoos, and a hand-written note. "Anytime, anywhere, whenever you're ready. I'll be waiting," was scrawled in Booth's handwriting across a single post-it.

She turned to him, tears in her eyes. He pulled her into his arms and looked her straight in the eye. "I love you, Temperance. As long as I have breath I will choose to stay with you. Our life may not be easy, but I will always be yours."

Her heart overflowed at his words. He knew her so well, her flaws and her insecurities, and yet he still wanted to be with her. She knew he wasn't perfect, but she loved him anyway, not in spite of his imperfections but because of them.

She spoke honestly and from her heart without qualification. "I love you, Seeley. You're the first person I've said that to in more than fifteen years and I've never meant it as much as I do now."

She kissed him, a serious kiss, almost as if she was making a promise, and he knew she meant every word because she'd made room in her life for him and what was important to him. He kissed her back, mentally promising her that he would protect her forever.


	18. Ink

_Six Months Later_

Brennan and Booth sat in the courtroom as the jury reentered the room. Celia sat on the opposite side of Booth. She had declined to testify, but with the video evidence and Brennan's testimony she hadn't really needed to. Last week, Pitts had been convicted of conspiracy to kidnap a federal agent and kidnapping a federal agent.

During the trial Brennan had been so sure that Fitzhugh, the mastermind behind their kidnapping, would be found guilty of multiple counts of kidnapping and false imprisonment charges, as well as multiple counts of sexual assault and rape and attempted murder

But now doubt assailed her. Had the testimony been enough? She'd had enough experience with juries to know that they didn't always see things as clearly as she did. She pushed her doubt away. Pitts had been found guilty, Fitzhugh would too. The evidence was clear.

Everything happened in slow motion. She watched as the foreman deliberately handed the verdict to the bailiff. The judge accepted the verdict from the bailiff, read it slowly, ordered the defendant to stand, and handed it to the clerk.

"We find the defendant guilty on all counts."

Booth wanted to whoop and shout and take Brennan in his arms and twirl her around, but aware of their location, he simply leaned over and gave her a hug. They would have time to celebrate later.

The last of the formalities finally finished, they left the courtroom.

"Temperance, I want to thank you," Celia said hesitantly. "I don't think I could have gotten on that stand and say what needed to be said."

This was the first time that Celia had voluntarily addressed her since that day at the hospital. She smiled. "You're welcome. Are you sure you and Sam don't want to come to the celebration?"

"Yes. You're an amazing person, but after everything that happened I just can't..."

"I understand," Brennan replied softly, watching as the other woman walked out of her life. They had done what was necessary to survive physically but destroyed their budding friendship in the process.

Booth slung an arm around her shoulder and distracted his partner from her sadness. "So, you ready to face the pack of hyenas?"

Two minutes later, they were standing in front of a bank of microphones.

"Our job is to bring justice to those who have been murdered. Although this wasn't a murder, it was a situation where justice needed to be done. We should never shrink from the truth, no matter how unpleasant, and we should always wait for the evidence before jumping to conclusions. We did what was necessary for justice and to prevent others from suffering a similar fate at the hands of the defendant."

Booth smiled wondering if the media personnel had caught her subtle rebuke. She grabbed his hand as he led her away from the crowd.

Half an hour and a change of clothes later, the two strode into the diner. Brennan sported a modest tank top and her usual chunky necklace. Booth wore an unbuttoned white shirt over his wife-beater.

Angela wolf-whistled. "Looking good."

As he slid after her into the booth where their friends were waiting, Booth glanced at Brennan and she gave him a small nod. He slipped off his shirt and tossed it across the back of the seat.

Turning to the waitress, he said, "Two iced teas, please."

He tossed a charm smile to everybody, pleased to be in out of the heat. Everyone was similarly attired in clothing designed to stay cool. Now he just had to wait.

The conversation started with the trial and everyone clinked their glasses together in celebration. Then it wandered from topic to topic, lighter and freer than it had been in months.

Angela was sitting beside Brennan, which was probably why it took her so long to notice, but when Booth leaned half way across the table to disagree with Jack about one of his conspiracies, she could hardly miss it.

"Sweetie, is that a new tattoo? Let me see!"

He smirked as he sat back. He pulled aside the fabric of his shirt so everyone could see it. Brennan watched the scene with amusement.

Jack took a quick look and said, "Cool dude."

Angela looked more closely. "It has some similarities with heraldry, but I've never seen anything quite like it."

"Bones designed it."

All eyes swung to her and she shrugged. "It's represents us."

Angela's eyes bored into hers. Brennan stared back for a minute and then nudged Booth. She followed him out of the booth. He stood back from the end of the table and she stepped in front of him, her back toward her friends. When he reached his arms around to slip her shirt up a bit and expose the tattoo on her lower back, she rested her head on chest just where his tattoo was.

"You've been holding out on me! When did you two get this done?"

Brennan and Booth glanced at each other and answered together. "January."

"And his over his heart symbolizing his love and yours on your back where he always rests his hand!" Angela announced.

Everyone except the two partners were surprised at what she'd figured out. They were wrapped up in thoughts of the weekend they'd stolen to be together before the trial began, when they'd gotten the tattoos. Although it hadn't been their first time together, she'd let him be as romantic as he wanted and they had made some fabulous memories together.

He slowly leaned down and kissed her in full view of their friends and everyone else in the diner. Laughs started when the kiss lasted longer than a few seconds, and as it continued, applause broke out around the diner.

**AN: I apologize for waiting so long to post this. We have a week of meetings for work and I had a lot of preparation to do. Thanks to everyone who read the story and put up with the strange posting schedule after I promised a regular one. Double thanks to everyone who reviewed. Special thanks to TotallyHonestReviewer1 for helping me keep it real and to redrider6612 and FauxMaven for their editing expertise. **


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